Silent Hill: Transcendence
by D4RKR4VEN
Summary: Silent Hill, a town located on the shores of Toluca Lake, a neighbour of Brahms, North and South Ashfield, Shepherd's Glen. Silent Hill, a town at the opposite end of the world from where he lives. An unofficial addition to the Silent Hill franchise.
1. Prologue: The Bunk

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Prologue: The Bunk**

The previous day had been a drag, a slow and painful one at that. Add in some heat too, and you'd understand a tenth of it. We were rehearsing for a Change of Command parade to commemorate the taking over of a new Commanding Officer (CO for short). Hours were spent under the ruthless sun as we peeled our ears for every single syllable of each command, made sure we followed them to the very twitch of our muscles. It's been my reality for a week by now, ever since Wednesday- apparently this one took the cake where priority was concerned. This unit- the unit I've just been posted in was after all, a staging point for overseas deployments here and there.

I guess that's what I get for being an honest, upright male Singaporean who's born in the lion city. Every Singaporean citizen is required to serve the country, but it was those with a conscious who took the beating. Sure, they made me a Sergeant, gave me those three Chevrons and a few hundred more dollars, but hey, those three bent bars and coins would meant more lactic acid in my meat and a pair of bigger black eyebags anyway. I'm just like everybody else, except pulled deeper into shit I wanted no part in- all I ever aspired towards was just the university, and after that, a shot at the Publishing industry as a writer and publisher, not the army.

After the drills conducted yesterday for the hours-long military parade that was probably one of the most complex yet, I'd say my limit was broken, way beyond where it was. By the time the Sergeant Major was done with me and my platoon, I was exhausted and somewhat delirious. I could barely remember marching back to our barracks from the Parade Square and going up to my bunk so that I could finally fall into a more horizontal position for the first time in a day. I could remember myself tearing my LBV off and stripping myself clumsily of the green and black fabric covering my body before falling into bed. God help me, I couldn't remember if my rifle was in my locker or not- I could only hope my Company Sergeant Major (CSM for short) was in a happier mood yesterday...

"Do you accept, or not?" A voice questioned me, but all was too hazy for me to tell the tone of the voice.

"..." I said nothing, not that it was in my control. All was a formless void; darkness. Whether I was dead or alive from exhaustion I could not tell, whether I was conscious or comatose I wasn't sure.

The first thing that woke me up was an unfortunate cram in my right calf- Happened to me a few times already even before I started my journey in the Singapore Armed Forces, so it wasn't a big deal. Just a shot of pain for a few seconds, not unlike the unsavoury taste of alcohol as you gulp it down- I never liked alcohol, nor pain, but my time in the military has readjusted my nerves for the worse. Clutching my leg and gritting my teeth, I bore with the pain, before I start caring about my wakefulness.

After the grip of pain left me, I laid down for another further minute, just thinking, remembering the previous day, and looking forward for what is to come- The day was Saturday, it was time to book out of camp and enjoy the lack of green pixels and military commands. Judging from the light in the room, or the lack of it however, I had woken up a tad too early. There wasn't so much as a sunray remotely orange that heralds the coming of dawn, yet there was little chance that I will go back to sleep. Despite being grilled on the electric fence of our military parade the previous day, I was surprisingly alert, though my mind was still yawning and my body complaining.

With my smell and touch reactivated I surveyed myself- not a pleasant sight at all. I had neglected myself the previous evening. I hadn't showered, and I hadn't changed. I was topless with my military pixelated trousers unbuttoned two out of four from the top, my tanned skin exposed to the cool night air. It was time for that to change, after all, there was a rather thin silver lining in yesterday's storm. Pleased with our performance, the conducting officer of our parade had decided to allow us to book out at the earliest time possible- straight after our mandatory breakfast at seven o'clock in the morning, provided everyone in our platoon was quick enough.

Being guilty of slowing down my platoon for at least three counts over my years in the army, I've decided to spam my discipline into this day. The sun had not rise, but what the hell. I had only a few more weeks before I ORD from the army (ORD means Operationally Ready Date, used locally to mean 'leave the army' or 'complete my national service') so I thought I might as well make them as happy as the army would allow them to be. Checking my Casio digital watch on the footlocker at the foot of my bed, I was expecting it to be four in the glorious morning, but there was no way of telling- somehow, my watch had stopped functioning. It had been my watch ever since I entered the army, and had sustained plenty of drops and scratches- It was only natural that it finally died today, I thought.

Neglecting the time, I proceeded to unlock my locker as quietly as I could, so that I may not disturb the ten or so others who were sleeping in the same bunk. Upon examination, my locker was indeed padlocked- My rifle was safe all this while. There was still a loud, metallic, 'tunk' as I disabled it, but thankfully everyone was probably about as energetic as a cucumber at this hour. In my locker I took out my toiletries kit, containing my toothpaste, toothbrush, shampoo and soap. I slipped my towel and fresh pair of underwear over my right shoulder as I mounted my reddened feet onto the old slippers I had brought along with me to this camp.

I doubled my pace out of my bunk- I had always been an impatient person, least of all with myself. People had always said, ever since I was mustering my all to get through primary school, that I was too serious and demanding of myself. Honestly, I was never sure- I was never sure if I was pushing myself too hard or that the world was just too relaxed. All I ever knew was that if I ever slow down, I would never be able to catch up with anyone. I was never really good in many things- I was simply too overspecialised in my passion- writing, and reading.

I redoubled my pace, entering the toilet quickly to shirk off the naked and vulnerable feeling I get whenever I was walking around outside in minimum clothing. Not that anyone would see me anyway- everyone in my unit should be too busy snoozing away in bed. As usual, I was greeted by the amazing fragrance of the loo- but something seems off about the smell, as if something else was mixed in with the sulphuric stench of shit and piss, something metallic...

'Could be the jokers again, pouring thinner into the toilet bowls...' I dismissed the thought as I set my toiletries down and entered a cubicle, locking the swinging door behind me- despite the obvious absence of people, I prefer to secure a space for myself whenever I do something that isn't for the public to witness. I had always been cautious on matters related to my privacy. I had always been this way, ever since God knows when.

As I took my morning piss the overall smell of the toilet became increasingly pungent- it was impossible that I was adding to the brew, as the smell had evolved into something slightly choking, something more than just faeces and urine mixed with thinner. Something was rotting inside. I had to hold my breath as I completed my deed and flushed the toilet- the several unlucky souls who were assigned the toilet as their area cleaning duty didn't do a very good job of making it usable, not that I care- to make this matter known was to get my friends in trouble, and probably myself.

I proceeded to one of the shower cubicles, and in it I stripped myself naked for the first time in almost an entire twenty-four hours period, after making sure the door was locked. Surprisingly, the smell was underwhelming- my nose was probably numbed by the pervasive, rotting stench. Turning the faucet, I started showering- the cold water was heavenly. Even on a cooling night, I was feeling heaty and heavy, probably owing to the dried sweat coating my skin and trousers. The water undid this, refreshed me. I thought to myself- this is the same feeling I'm going to get a few weeks later, when I leave the God-damn army and kick-start my civilian life again.

It was then that I heard something faint, something amounting to either whispering or the shuffling of feet. It disturbed me a little, but having heard this a few times before, along with some common army camp ghost stories, I didn't care- it was probably either a prank or my imagination, though it still did a good job of hurrying me up through my shower. Putting on my underwear and towel, I took my leave, my footsteps hurried- the smell was still intensifying, as if it would turn toxic soon. It was as if the toilet was tired of being abused. The abomination assaulting my lungs was starting to resemble week-old blood and rotting meat. Not to mention those subtle sounds...

"Damn it..." I cursed softly under my breath as I slowed down, realising that I was letting my stress get to me. I was just imagining things, I thought, and the previous few days weren't exactly bed and breakfast either. I was worst in the aftermath of the previous day's drills- I couldn't remember shit, I could even be seeing things, if only I remember what I saw. I recalled someone telling me that I was delirious and needed rest, though I couldn't tell who and when it was. With that, I returned to my bunk and changed up. Still being unable to tell the time as I discovered my handphone was out of power and I had neglected to bring a charger, I went ahead with it. 'I could grab a drink downstairs...' I thought as I tried to encourage myself.

Slowly and methodically, I put on my military undergarments- a pair of green admin T-shirt, thick, green socks that went up to just a few inches under my knees. This was followed up by my actual uniform- the famous green pixelated smart number four (or smart four for short). The only difference between the smart four and the long four was that the arms-length sleeves of the smart four was folded up in a standardised fashion to cling high onto the upper arms. Otherwise, it was just a folded up long four.

My boots and gutters came after- after making sure my black combat boots were skin-tight, I folded up the legs of my pants to where the boots stopped. This was held in place by the gutters. Funny, how I used to think all soldiers had to tuck in their pants into their boots when I was young. I was made fun of no less by students in my school who were part of the National Cadet Corps (NCC)- they were teenagers who just can't wait to serve their NS liability. My personal belongings came last- wallets, cards, camp pass.

As I was preparing to leave, the acidic smell of the toilet had caught up with me- it was an impossibility. 'What the hell..?' I thought as I took light steps towards the bunk's only entrance door. Thankfully, it was nowhere near as deadly as the fumes I breathed in within the toilet.

The door was closed firmly, but as I approached it, it opened itself, swinging painfully slowly on its hinges when I stopped where I am. It was only slightly ajar, but it was wrenching my mind open- 'It couldn't be the wind. Doors slam if it's the wind...' I thought as I started again. Cautiously, I brought my hand closer to the door knob, and wrapped it around the metal, widening the gap between my bunk and the world with dark foreboding...


	2. Chapter 1, Part 1: The Barracks

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 1: The Barracks**

Our camp, Changi Preparatory Base, was a newly constructed and commissioned army facility, designed to complement Changi Airbase. Personnel who were due for overseas mission would be posted in here. Permanent staff would include plenty of logisticians and clerical workers- I was one of them, a logistician. As a Company Quartermaster Sergeant (CQMS), I oversee the supply needs of one of the companies in camp, though most of the work goes to the regulars- God knows how they survive those decades in the military. A year was enough to drive me up a skyscraper.

It was a double-edged sword, being posted into this revolutionary base. With everything starting up and gaining momentum, the work was just piling up- but unlike older, decades old bases, there were less accounting issues such as missing stores to worry about. As a new base, there were nice, virgin walls to look at, unlike the older bases that always had grime and clots of dust in every corner- though that would mean more pressure to maintain that virginity.

The pleasant environment served to calm me down, as I stepped out of the bunk, afraid that I might finally see the first Ghost in my life, like a Pontianak (malay vampires that are ethereal, with their breasts on their back and fingernails as long and thin as assassin dagger blades) or a Jiang-Si (Chinese hopping zombies or vampires in traditional clothing- they are more terrifying than it sounds), but there was none to be seen. Even the smell was receding in the face of such positivity. Proceeding down the staircases close to my bunk, I went down to the first floor, escaping the equally terrifying smell and into the open. Without a thought, I made my way to a connecting open-aired briefing/training shelter where there was a vending machine, with a physical catalogue of carefully selected health drinks.

It wasn't an easy decision as some of the choices were actually tempting, so I made a random pick, and what came out was a health drink by the brand of New Sun- a kind of thick tea-like thing with different fruity flavours. Mine was watermelon flavoured. Having just woke up after an exhausting day-long drill, from a full-length sleep, it was an understatement that I was thirsty. It wasn't long before I walked out into the open, under the night sky, and started guzzling like a camel from the bottle, before I nearly vomited from the horrid taste after spitting the mouthful of liquid out, and then my corrupted saliva, making sure that every single drop of it, no matter the dilution, was out. Stumbling haphazardly backwards, I dropped the bottle callously as the pungent, metallic taste overwhelmed my senses- my taste, my smell, even my touch. It was crawling under my skin. I tripped on the raised flooring of the shelter, falling on my bum as I coughed the poison out, nearly vomiting with every violent hacking.

"The heck!" I managed to retort as I was still trying to control myself. Through tears and a vision blurred from a trauma to the senses, I saw the contents of the bottle- something shockingly red, with pockets of translucent stuff here and there. The taste was horrendous- metallic, rotting, like the toilet upstairs bottled as a drink. It triggered memories of those times when I had one of those sore throats, the kind that gives you ulcers inside that leaks pus, the kind that hurts with every move you make and every small bit of food or liquid you swallow. It reminds me of what came after a punch in the mouth. It was much worse than that- on top of that, I tasted rot.

Pushing myself up, I realised something else- that the floor was looking older than it was supposed to, and as I let my eyes travel upward as I stood myself up, so were the walls. It was as if they had aged five decades in five seconds. The wall in the shelter was painted beige, but the paint had flecked off and the concrete underneath was exposed, even cracked, with dirt and blackness covering it. The floor, as well. There was supposed to be a fairly new whiteboard at the front- it was replaced with something that had been overused. Words were squeezed into it, but it was hard to make out what they were- the lights were dimmed significantly, the colour of it brown instead of pure, holy white. The few that I could make out were profane accusations and criticisms, 'IDIOT', 'WEAK', 'SLOW', 'BLUR SOTONG' (in local slang, it meant you easily miss out details, or that you are slow on the uptake).

Even with my face up close to the board, and my hands tracing the words, I could not make out any of the smaller words, but there were more profane descriptions that even a lifetime bully would have trouble thinking up, along with more intelligent ones, such as 'INEPT', 'IGNORANT', 'WAYWARD'...

"Who would write such things?" I thought to myself, but I found myself saying it, as if it was a thought that could not bear to express itself in a more audible way. As I stared at the incredible collection of scoldings, something began to form in my mind, something horrible. Slowly, my temples began to ache. It was stress, or at least I thought so, "Calm down... Bryan... This... This's a nightmare..." I closed my eyes, and focused on less disturbing thoughts, like spending an afternoon alone, reading a novel as I was seated on a comfortable sofa with my feet resting on the coffee table. The headaches faded, leaving only a stretched sensation in its wake, as the something that was forming disappeared.

Turning to leave as I clutched my head, my eyes still closed in concentration to banish those strange, formless, painful thoughts, I bumped into one of the short benches, my shin taking it head on. I nearly fell, but before that happens I steadied myself against the benches, only to feel something softer than wood under my hands. Opening my bespectacled eyes, I realised that I was gripping onto human limbs, white, pale ones, and one of them weren't even attached to a body. There was something slick in my hands- it was blood, as the naked limbs and bodies before me were contrasted by its crimson colour. I recoiled from the morbid realisation, taking my hands away from the cold remains of some unlucky soul and stumbling backwards as I started screaming- I was never a screamer; another of my limits were broken. The only comfort I could derive from the loosening of my courage was that it was at least manly- it sounded like it.

Every Singaporean soldier was a candidate for tough, physical conditioning along with some basic soldiering including drills, firearms training, individual fieldcraft, all in one package called Basic Military Training (BMT), unless said soldier was medically exempted. Every soldier, in other words, had to go through shit and brimstone to go from boys to men. Not to mention, life in the unit could involve plenty of cut-throat politics and dire consequences for even the smallest of matters- enough to numb anyone from pain and emotions. I had been through nearly two years of everything the army could throw at any single person, and it was still far from enough for me to look upon the sight before my eyes without feeling faint and my sanity creeping away, one small millimetre at a time.

I backed away from the naked, ghost-white corpse of some person, and as I kept at it, horrified, I hit the wall, and as I could back away no further, I stuck myself to the wall, forgetting that it was decaying concrete altogether. At a distance, at the edge of the parade square my company's barracks was just next to, I noticed a human-shaped form- his back was facing me. From the looks of it, he was unaware of what was going on, and he was certainly unaware of the corpse, nor of what was I going through. I took off, sprinting at him- someone has got to know about the dead man, not just me. Perhaps together, we could report the matter. Perhaps together, we could investigate what the hell was going on with the health drink, with the walls, the whiteboard and the benches, some of which had fallen partially apart.

"Hey! Hey you!" I called out to the stranger in the night as I ran after him- he was drifting away slowly. As I approached him, I realised that his clothes were rags, as if he had nothing else better to wear. The man was also thin like bones, as if he was emaciated. I could see greasy, stringy hair about neck-length flowing haphazardly down his scalp. He was holding something in his left hand, but from my angle, with no lighting, I could not tell what it was. I was terrified of what I had ditched at the training/briefing shelter, so I couldn't be any more polite. Grabbing him by the shoulder, I turned him, only to come face to face with the very horror I was running away from.

The thing I took to be a stranger was not human, or rather; it was perhaps an aberration of what was once human. His head was twitching and convulsing unnaturally, at speeds supposed to be impossible in reality. I could barely make out his facial features- a disturbing grin, brown and blackened teeth, completely white eyes. It was laughing like a satanic Goofy- at what I would never know, and perhaps I would not want to know. It looked insane enough, and I wouldn't want anything to do with the insane. It was then that I realised the rags it wore were bloody, and its skin dark and leathery- as if it had gone through the tannery before, alive.

As I was paralysed by the sight before me, the laughing monster fell upon me, knocking me off my feet, despite the stability my boots had granted me. As it lay on top of me while I screamed at the abomination, I realised a moment too late what it was holding in its hand as it swung the object at me- a bloodied metal rod that looks like it had snuffed out a life before.

Instinctually, I raised my arms to safeguard my head, but the impact on my upper limbs weren't any less painful. Fighting the fear in me, and losing the battle, I grabbed the emaciated creature by the weapons arm nonetheless and wrenched it off balance, punching it in the convulsing head a few times as I panicked- it probably failed to do any significant harm. It wasn't hard to wrestle it off me- owing to its unnaturally thin frame; it was easy to throw him off. After doing so, I ran like never before, almost blindly the way I marched back to bunk after yesterday's hell drill.

In my panicked state, I nearly tripped over a low ledge meant to divide a flower bed from the pavements as I took flight- it was not much a comfort to escape falling, as I accidentally slammed my face against a pillar- which had turned into decayed concrete like the rest of the building. Leaning against it, recovering, I looked behind, realising with renewed sense of urgency that the cackling maniac was after me. It was slow though- the way it ran with small, weak gaits that were somehow disturbing at the same time.

Screaming unintelligibly as I resumed running, with the little shred of calm I could muster I decided to retreat towards the company office, where there were supposed to be a few duty personnel sitting around, fighting boredom and tiredness with coffee.


	3. Chapter 1, Part 2: Cackling Fools

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 2: Cackling Fools**

The emaciated-looking creature was laughing disturbingly, hot on my trail. Seeing it coming after me with all-out effort did not help calm me down. Circumnavigating the pillar I ran into, I reached the company office door and pounded my fist on it. The dull, throbbing pain on my right arm did not deter me from getting attention, but there was no response at all. I tried shouting for help, but there was none to be rendered. Stepping back, I noticed light coming from the window by the door, but as soon as I could get a glimpse of the office's interior, the blinds were drawn, as if someone was ignoring me, throwing me out for the wolves.

The cackle was growing louder as I was drowning myself in the effort to get help- pounding on the windows, shrieking at it. I knew time was running short as I fought for a lost cause, and I could hear that it was just right behind me. It had snuck up while I was looking for rescue. I could even smell it; it smelt like the sewers, like someone who never showered. The creature's victorious cry as it wound up for a swing with its bloodied steel rod was a confirmation of its proximity. Instinctually, I ducked for cover. There was the sound of glass shattering- but looking up, I saw that the windows were just cracked, with an inch diameter of a hole.

I was a soldier, trained in the modern art of war, trained in a method that was considered very effective even when compared to western models of military training. Yet, it was all nullified, considering that the equipment I had trained with were all locked away, not on my person. Even worse: I was no combatant- I was trained primarily for logistics. Even though I had gone through an ersatz form of combat training in my BMT (Basic Military Training) days and CQMS (Company Quartermaster Sergeant) course days, I would be a cake-walk if I was pitted against a rifleman, or better, a commando or guardsman.

Thus, I chose to run. Pushing myself from a crouched position, I ran away from the violent creature- the next thing to do was to alert the rest of the company. This, however, was made difficult from how dark the open-aired corridors of the ground floor had become- most of the ceiling lamps were dimmed, broken or flickering in its death throes. Somehow, rusty fences were erected between the pillars along the corridor- they weren't there before. Some were rusted open at some places, others gnarled and broken, but they all looked firm and some were even dangerous from how some of the steel bars were sticking towards me. Nevertheless, I ran, despite how it seems that the entire world was against me.

The corridor, lined with impenetrable fences, forms an L to the left where it ends with a flight of stairs- there was another of the emaciated creature at the end of the corridor, coming at me. This one was wearing a different set of disgusting, bloody rags, and was wielding a kitchen knife instead of a rod, but it was otherwise the same monster- its head was twitching at speeds impossible, and it moves in a stiff gait. A sickening Goofy laughter emanates from its swollen, pulsing lips. Rotten teeth, white eyes. I couldn't even think of engaging it even if it was blocking my way. I just sort of stopped a couple of meters away from it, despairing over how it seemed hard to get through the hostile creature. Its friend wasn't far behind- I was forced into a corner, so I went forward, as ill-equipped to fight as I was.

There was no way I could win- the violent being attacked first, flailing its knife at me. A few swings later, it tried to stab me, but I was able to dodge its feeble but vicious attack, grab it by the arm and push it aside with my other hand. My way was finally open. With a heart pounding too much from adrenaline and a kind of cold, hard fear never felt before, I sprinted away, ditching the two things, made a turn and climbed the stairs.

On the second floor, the architecture was as rusted and damaged as everything on the first floor- the whole building was intended changed... somehow. The stairs to the third floor where my bunk was in were somehow blocked by some rusty wire mesh fencing, so I couldn't get up from there- not that I needed to. I was intending to call in the cavalry from the second floor. Approaching the closest bunk, I banged on the door the way I did to the company office, but there was no reply- were they really that tired? I tried the door, but the lock was broken- the knob could rotate completely, but the door would not budge. It was as if the entire world was falling apart.

The realisation that things had gone to hell unnerved me. Pounding on the door further, I screamed at it, kicked it, and screamed even more, hoping beyond hope that someone would answer my call for help. It was after some time that the lights were on, and I couldn't resist but to look through the windows by the door- and I was rewarded with someone doing the same from the other side, except that someone was the same creature as the ones downstairs that shouldn't exist. Except this one had the army's uniform on, and was silent. I recoiled from the sight, and stumbled away from it, fearing that it would break through the glasses and grab me by the throat, but it was just standing there, staring with its milky-white eyes at me, its head vibrating as though it was being electrocuted. It was then that I realised that the other bunks were lighted up as well, but the same hellish creatures were at each window. Some had more than one- they were just standing there, looking.

There was no other way- I could only run, and run. It was the only option- everyone was gone, replaced by the Cackling Fools, as I decided to name them for the way they laughed despite their condition- they weren't exactly exceptional fighters either, though that's not to say I was better. A silhouette was blocking my way however, something hulking and tall, taking up two-thirds the width of the walkway, and standing at 1.8 meters. It was holding something long and flashy in the dark. Just as soon as I detected the strange new thing, it raised the long and flashy thing- It was a rifle! Instead of a gunshot and an end to my life however, there was the loud click, but it nearly shocked me to death all the same.

I had wanted to return the way I came from, but the distant corrupted laughter of the Cackling Fool at the stairs was enough to push me forward. 'It was out, so it should be okay...' I thought to myself, tried to shine some light in the otherwise pitch-black situation, but it did little to encourage. I was taking small steps towards the hulking monster- It was so dark that I couldn't see what it was. I surveyed the situation- it has left a gap to its left; I could squeeze through that, but the monster was probably dangerous judging from its size and rifle. I saw the flash of a bayonet. Looking back, I realised the two Cackling Fools had blocked the other side of the second floor corridor I was in. A Cackling Fool was easy to overpower, but two...

I took a charge forward- there was no option for me but to hope I could squeeze through the gigantic beast. I was envisioning myself taking a dive at the gap it had left, but before I could bend low and jump, the muscled thing lunged forward, and rifle-butted me, knocking me backwards. I fell on my back from the force, a confirmation of its might. It took the wind out of me, and I couldn't do anything as the giant raised its rifle, preparing to pig-stick me. It was funny, how I still had time to realise that it was holding an old AR-15 rifle, when I was about to die.

I recovered just enough to roll aside before the monster struck down with its bayonet. In effect, its blade became stuck in the ground. Taking this time and opportunity, I got up and took off through the gap while it pulled off its bayonet from the ground. Before it could turn around though, I was already gone- despite being winded, I was frightened enough to run that fast. Part of my success however, was because, I realised, the giant was a bit on the slow side, and despite possessing so much muscle- perhaps it was its weight.

A flight of stairs later, I was at the third floor, and my bunk was just beside it. The door leading into my bunk was still ajar, but there was one fundamental difference- It was splashed with some kind of red stuff. The third floor was overwhelmed with that horrible metallic, rotting smell from the toilet, so it was hard to tell what it was- I could only guess from its shade of red and texture that it was blood. Call me a wimp, but I was afraid to touch it- I had to force myself. Choosing the least stained part of the door, I swung open the door, and walked in, flipping on the light switch in an attempt to wake everyone up and light everything up at the same time. What came was a lacklustre, feeble dimness that barely serves the latter purpose. A few fluorescent ceiling lamps were flickering, but it was enough for me to tell...

That there was no one at all- the beds around mine were instead either bloody, messed-up mattresses or occupied by some kind of fleshy mannequin, or even a combination of both. Needless to say, I gagged at the sight. Some of the mannequins were accurately positioned in various poses- some were asleep, others lie in their final death throes, and did I mention they were fleshy? One had a large wound in its chest, and from my spot at the door, I could tell that there were organs and meat inside, "God... Good God..."

I couldn't stop questioning- Were they there before? Have I failed to notice them when I woke up? The lights were all off, after all... Or did they just appear out of nowhere? The worse thought came after that- Did someone put them there? It was ridiculous, but it was a chilling thought nonetheless.

In my green, digitized uniform and black leather boots, with my three chevrons, no matter how much I hated the army, I was a confident bastard. Wearing the uniform somehow gave me a sense of security and pride, even though I was disappointed and angry at how my own mother country had done to me despite my best intentions for her- I had planned to study English Literature, write, and spread its culture all over the globe. I preached my loyalty to everyone who would hear- at least, that was long ago. Now, I just want to get out of the military, and write for my own passion. In my uniform, I somehow felt strong, and able to overcome odds, but now, that was stripped from me- the monsters, the rot, the blood... Not even a top commando was trained for this...

Carefully avoiding the sprawling legs of a fleshy mannequin lying in an opposite direction to its bed, I made my way to my locker- To survive and find out what was going on, I would need to equip myself. On my locker, I noticed some wordings- the same crude insults written on the whiteboard at the briefing shelter below, "Who the hell did this?" I said as I touched the words- not all of them were polite and decent. Some were very vulgar- I was F-bombed a few times. Ignoring them after getting flushed with an anger which I myself know not why it surfaced, I unlocked my cabinet- and found something else other than my rifle...


	4. Chapter 1, Part 3: Friends Lost

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 3: Friends Lost**

_In pieces your wife rest,_

_Scattered to the four corners at best,_

_In this camp rest,_

_A double-edged sword at best,_

_Your grave pain and redress._

Cryptic words were carved into the half-dried blood that had layered the insides of my now completely rusty locker- most of my personal belongings were missing. Most importantly, my SAR-21 rifle was gone, nowhere to be seen. All that was left of it was the rifle butt; The bottom half of the gun which was meant to rest on the firer's shoulder when it was held. It consists of a compartment housing one half of the firing mechanisms controlling the select fire (which was thankfully intact), as well as the external casing, grip and trigger.

The rifle butt was leaning against an open part of the locker meant for storing the rifle, surprisingly untouched by the blood that was somehow splashed into my cabinet. Picking it up from its body, I examined it for any signs of damage and filth, but it was in perfect condition- I could barely concentrate as I was becoming increasingly worried about what would happen to me if my superiors knew about this.

"Who did this?" I uttered in disbelief at how such an elaborate thing could be done to me when I was only gone for ten minutes; my padlock was locked and firm and there were no signs of foul play on the part of my bunkmates. Heck, there were monsters out there! Organic mannequins and rotten limbs and blood everywhere! Logic was not just thrown out of the window, but far out enough to smash a window of the neighbouring HDB flat (the staple apartment block building type in Singapore), "This... This've got to be a joke... A nightmare..."

There was a distant growl somewhere outside the bunk, and my thoughts returned to the gritty prospects of my own survival. Before managing to retreat to my bunk, I had expected my whole rifle to be waiting for me, including the bayonet attached to its snout. Now, the rifle butt was all I have, the remnant of my best hope for any chance of survival. A small epiphany found its way into my mind however, triggered by the coincidental way I was holding it- It could be used as a club.

Perhaps indirectly, the SAR-21 rifle butt was almost designed as a blunt weapon, being made of steel and durable plastic, with Kevlar inside to prevent death by chamber explosion. The rifle butt was anything but close to the effectiveness of the SAR-21 with bayonet, but it was the only thing I have amounting to a weapon. I've thought about the SOG knife kept in its sheath attached to my LBV (Load-Bearing Vest), a special tool that is similar to a Swiss Army Knife, but its blade was too short. Though it was sharp, I had no confidence in using it as a weapon against those things that were menacing me.

As I was preparing to lock up, I bumped into one of the locker doors- As usual, I was a born klutz, but this time, it was a boon, as it helped me notice something written on the left swinging door of my locker. They were small, etched with fine care into the now rust-covered cabinet door. I had never noticed it before, and a part of me knew that it came with the aberrations of nature outside...

It was hard to make out at first, in the dim and flickering lights of the room, but the longer I tried to read it the brighter it becomes- the words were shining red as I continued to make out one word after another. As it grew more hellish red and distinct, blinding me with the otherworldly glow, my eyes began to sting, and my temples began to throb. I could barely finish the paragraph before I had to slam the locker doors shut and padlock them- the words were shooting spikes at me.

_In birth, the spiralling of the soul into darkness begins. One flight of steps into the abyss after another, it will never end. Long until one finds the final spiral into the void of one's heart will the home-way be lit._

As I leaned against the locker to recover from the strange discomfort, my head resting against the brown metal, shielded by my arms from the open, images started to form in my head, blur at first but they grew clearer with every moment passed. The pain in my brain grew as I made out the details, until I stopped trying to make sense of it completely- It was for the best anyway.

After preventing myself from fainting, I turned away from my cabinet and proceeded to open up my footlocker, which contains all my combat gear, what I would wear on a very real battlefield. They were all stuffed into the footlocker as there was very little space. Thrusting my hand into what little space there was, I pulled out my LBV. My elbow and knee guards tumbled out as I did so, sounding out for me to wear them. My helmet sounded out the loudest as it had fallen onto the sonorous metal floor of the footlocker skull-first.

Before I slip into my LBV, I had already understood that the lack of trauma plates was a concern as it would mean zero protection against bullets and the crude weapons those Cackling Fools were armed with could hurt me easily. The only compensation I could give myself was in the form of hard-cover notebooks that I brought along for my writing, found under my mattress. A thick stack of paper is useless against bullets, but they are still something against knives and rods, especially when there's hard cover.

I had plenty of time to plan my course of action as I put on my protective gear. Putting on my vest, I thought about where to go and the answer was immediately obvious- out of camp. Yet, as much as I hate to, I would have to linger on to find any trace of other survivors. Deep inside of me, I knew I shouldn't, or couldn't leave camp without seeking permission- It sounds stupid, and I had to agree, but the prospect of leaving camp without authorisation was about as bone-chillingly cold as the corpses I found outside. I could be charged AWOL when all this is over, and get thrown into DB (Detention Barracks). That's military discipline in a nutshell for you.

Sitting down on my bed, I slipped on my guards. Thus, my plan of action became clear: I will search for people in every building before making a break out of camp to contact the authorities. It was the only way- this way, if questioned, should I even survive this strange incident, I could easily defend myself by claiming that I had made the effort to search the camp for my superiors before I was forced to leave the camp.

Although... The more I thought about my circumstances, the more I questioned my sanity. What I saw, everything I saw... They were not meant to exist. The camp itself had become decaying and damaged when it was fresh and new a moment ago. There were bottled rotten liquid in a health drinks vending machine, monsters in the parade grounds, mutilated corpses, blood and organic mannequin...

Yet... It all seemed too real to be a construct of my imagination. Heck, I lived on my imagination. Money was actually earned from my imagination, and I certainly know what is from my imagination and what isn't. The smell, the vivid sights, the noises and howls of the dark creatures were all too real for this to be a nightmare. Something has happened to this world, not the world within me.

I was halfway from putting on my helmet when I decided against it. For a moment there, I stared into the hollow skull of my helmet, but my final stand was to put it away. I had always hated that thing as it would always get in the way of my peripheral vision and spectacles. It was tight and secure from the numerous times I had fiddled with the straps, but I was never confident that it would stay on. On several occasions in a firing range, it slipped lower to cover more of my vision before, and it was at those times that my hate for it was complete.

Still, it had sentimental value- I've gone through heaven and hell in it, even customised the headgear with a pair of ballistic goggles the way I had affectionately tweaked the rest of my combat gear. My guards, for instance, were bought when others disregarded it totally as a waste of money or credits (additional/ Surplus military equipment are managed by soldiers themselves). I had to put it away quickly before I change my mind and regret my decision later.

In minutes, I was ready for war, or at least, as ready as I could be, if you consider hard-cover books and a quartered rifle standard issue, that is. I got up from my bed uneasily, getting myself mentally adjusted to the stifling protections I was forced to don again, my rifle butt in hand. Taking a deep, long breath, I sneaked my way towards the bunk doors, intending to catch anyone or anything by surprise there- It was what I learnt during my early days in urban warfare, stealth. Except, this time it was real, and I had no rifle...

Had there been any uptight, on-the-ball instructors however, I would have failed miserably, as my boots were creaking and squeaking too much- I was making too much noise, or at least I thought so. Nevertheless, I proceeded to swing the door open quickly, as fast as possible to catch my enemies off-guard, hiding as soon as the door hit the wall, my trusty improvised club held close to my chest. Nothing, not a squawk of surprise, not an angry growl, nothing. I was taking shallow, rapid breaths, attempting a balancing act between controlling my anxiety and allowing as much oxygen in as possible. I was overfilled with concentrated adrenaline, pumped full of fear- I had no idea what was waiting for me out there. I was torn between hiding somewhere for the rest of the day and risking my neck escaping- I managed to stick an eye out to hazard a peek. It was more work than I thought.

Nothing. Not a shadow, no silhouettes, no monsters. It was oddly safe, silent that it was almost deafening. My adventurous side won, and I took a risk stepping outside, as quietly as possible. Before I left the relative safety of my bunk, I couldn't stop myself from looking back and thinking. The beds belonged to my bunkmates, a few of whom were with me wherever I go ever since we were all in Central Supply Hub, a unit encamped in Sembawang specialising in logistics- I was the only logistician Sergeant in our 'clique'. The rest were infantrymen. In an exercise, they would command their men to protect the supply train I was in. We were together for more than a year, a year or slightly less, depending on who it was, until now...

I would never know what happened to them, and I could only assume the worst. Something had happened, something that took everyone but me away, replacing them with blood and those cheap, dead imitations of my friends- Those strange dead living mannequins. The more I thought about it, the greater my head hurts- Thus, I decided to cease. It wasn't as difficult though, this time, as I was distracted by something else. The mannequins seemed to be in different poses. The one whose legs I had taken cared not to trip over was lying almost fully in a right angle against the bed, but now its torso was slightly aligned with the bed... Or was it my imagination? I was, afterall, in shock from my strange experiences...

I could only shudder at the sight, which I could not tell had changed or not. Questions that should not have been raised started popping in my head- Sometimes, I could really surprise myself with my own award-winning presentation, but now, it was beginning to frighten me. I slammed the door shut, end of story. My creative imagination was meant to be my livelihood, but it had to go for now, or it would become the end of me. Concentrating on the road ahead, and what it may bring, I tried hard not to imagine the crimson of blood, sweat and pain that I would no doubt have to face.


	5. Chapter 1, Part 4: First Confrontation

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 4: First Confrontation**

My mad rush back to bunk had left the third floor entirely 'unexplored', for the lack of a better word. With the entire building, and possibly the entire camp, changed and warped into the stuff of horrors, the entire world out there had become uncharted territory. The prospect of finding another victim of this strange phenomenon was what propelled me forward against the undercurrent of fear, and of course, I want out... Making a move along the corridor as quietly as I could, I pressed my palm against the door of the nearest neighbouring bunk- It couldn't be opened. I didn't bother to check the lock.

I made my way to the second nearest bunk, my ears, like radar, hearing for movement. I pushed against the second door, my improvised, ridiculous weapon at the ready, held above my shoulders. The door gave way. My grip on my rifle butt tightened as I slid into the near-darkness of the room. It was noiseless, static- All the better, it meant safety. It could do with some light, so I switched on the military L-torchlight attached to my LBV. I lit the way wherever I was facing.

Cages were everywhere- some were in place of the beds and lockers, assuming similar shapes. Some were hanging from the ceiling, suspended by thick, rusty chains. Inside these unsightly constructions were even more unsightly mannequins, the same fleshy ones. They were trapped- someone had locked these things in, someone cruel. In a way, it reminded me of my situation, something which I preferred not to think about...

My mind went in directions I didn't want to go. Were these mannequins once alive? Were they skinned corpses stuffed into hollow mannequins? That last thought made my stomach tremble- I felt like heaving out my last meal, if it was still in me after I was knocked out for ten hours. Before I do that in reality, I bolted out of the changed bunk.

Leaning against the railing of the corridor, I struggled to control myself there, and when I was done, I could only feel frustrated at myself, at how weak and incapable I was, "Damn it! Grab a hold of yourself!" I shouted as I pounded the railing, venting my anger upon the rusty sheets of steel.

I went on after I was done, but the rest of the floor was rendered inaccessible by dysfunctional locks- somehow, they were all broken, as if some higher power was carving a maze out for me to run through. As I had already seen the first and second floor, there was nothing left for me in my company building- It was time to move on, perhaps to the next company, Alpha company specifically. As it was just next to Bravo company, my company, it was the only logical choice. Charlie was another candidate, but I preferred to clear the buildings systematically, starting from A to Z.

It was a decent surprise, how the many odd forms that were chasing me had disappeared. Taking advantage of the relative safety at the moment, I made my way down as quickly as I could, not bothering about the heavy steps I took, made about as audible as trumpets at midnight by the heavy boots I wore. I didn't care- mobility grants evasiveness anyway, or at least as far as I know in this changed world.

Crossing a road separating my Alpha from Bravo, passing through the same shelter where I bought that bottle of rot, I was into familiar but unknown territory. The pillars here were similarly connected together with fences, forming a two-way route. The ground floor in Alpha was completely dark- The lights weren't doing what they were supposed to do. My lone L-Flashlight was doing all the work, lighting the way. It could only struggle to provide me with a small spotlight, and even that could not penetrate the darkness that was denser than normal. I could not see ten metres ahead of me, the way you can never see too far ahead at the bottom of a river.

The stairs closest to me were blocked by an obscene amount of furniture forming a wall- They look like they were pushed down from the second floor carelessly. At the landing between ground and second floor, there was blood on some of the furniture, and I could vaguely make out what appears to be feet. 'Christ, who did this?' My mind trembled at the thought of someone's death. I had wanted to investigate this; check if the unfortunate soul who was trapped under the mountain of rusted metal and rotting wood was alive, but the distant sound of screeching beckoned me away from the mess.

The noise was unearthly- It sounded like the screeching of metal on some surface. I had no idea what was producing that strange sound, and I went to investigate. A part of me knew, however, that there was always an element of danger, unconventional ones that found its way along with what the world has become. Always cautious and nervous, I took light steps towards the source of the screech, my equally unusual weapon at the ready. The darkness was working both for and against me. Anything hostile may not see me, but I was also forbidden by the omnipresent cloak of blindness to see my potential tormentors.

The screeching became louder as I proceeded down the corridor- as ready as I could be for anything, barely. After it started sounding like it was just next to me, the high-pitched grinding ceased, and I was left to wonder what it was, until the unwelcoming laughter of a Cackling Fool filled the air. It came within range of my flashlight, and I found out, to the expense of my confidence, that this one was armed with a long steel pipe about a metre in length- Heavily armed, in other words. The only thing giving me hope was my previous tussle with the leathery-hided man. Physically, he seemed weak, that was, if I could get past his weapon, horrible smell and terrifying appearance...

I was tempted to just run past the emaciated creature, but for my own good, I suppressed the flight response- Its weapon was long, and could easily connect with me if I make a break past him. A good blow to my face and skull could either knock me out or kill me. A hit to any other parts of my body could maim me pretty well.

I was rather shy at first- Just standing there, not knowing what to do... I was never trained in melee in my years in the army. My previous run-in with the world of martial arts was some three to four years ago- I was once a serious practitioner of Wushu, or Chinese martial arts, until I had some... Disagreements with my fellow martial artists. I left the group afterwards and never looked back, never really trained ever since... I kind of regretted it now, as my body had become stiff again.

As I came within range, the Cackling Fool raised its pipe one-handed, I swung into action- I didn't want to break a bone, and I had to act to protect myself. Rushing forward, I raised my own weapon and struck down without remorse reserved, knocking it over around the head. I had overestimated the strength I invested in this blow, and I stumbled slightly- only God would know what I was doing. The days when I handled swords and spears were long gone, and all that was left in me was the hollow shell of an amnesiac fighter. I followed through with a second blow in the opposite direction that seemed natural, but I missed. It was a stupid thing to do, but the creature had lost its balance at the right time, trying to regain its footing as it leaned against the wall to its right. It was only a consolation prize that I didn't lose my balance from this follow-up attack...

Take a peek at the creature of my nightmare; observe its leathery skin stretching as it wound up for a second attempt at my life. Look at its convulsing head, the white eyes and permanent grin... Have a peek at its rags for clothes- filthy garments that even a hobo would not wear, that even a surgeon would vomit at the sight of the dried blood and bodily fluids. Take a good, hard look, creature and pipe, and you may realise that I must be crazy to engage such a thing in combat- Well, it was the only way. Could I turn back and run? Yes, but that would mean any survivors, supplies and clues as to why all this was happening inside the building would not be found. Yes, but adopt that attitude and I might as well cower in a corner of my bunk, like a shivering sheep waiting to be slaughtered.

My surge of attacks was followed up with an overhead blow on the thing. I was aiming for the head, but my rifle butt made contact in the creature's shoulder instead- Not that I was complaining. It was better than nothing, better than what was expected. The Fool was not fazed however, despite the cracks heard coming from its bones. I was just stalling it, more likely. After all, what could I hope to do? These things are not normal men- And they would probably react abnormally to what was considered usual. My overhead blow did little to it- It was still standing, and unexpectedly, out of the corner of my left eye, I saw it swinging its weapon as it was resting its head on the floor, one tick of a moment too late. I could feel a sudden pain shoot up just above my waist- The pipe had circumvented my books by hitting my left side.

Catching the pipe and holding tight onto it with my left hand, I retaliated with my right, scoring a goal straight in its head. The thing was finally downed- I had even disarmed it accidentally as I refused to let go of its steel pipe. Something bellowed out inside of me, and I wound up my leg before giving it a full kick of my booted leg, delivered right into its guts. It was anger- I was angry at being attacked, but my brief source of power simmered out almost as fast as it came on. Tossing the pipe over the otherworldly fences, I stepped over the still convulsing creature and proceeded to try all the doors it was guarding. The offices were all beyond my reach, except for one at the end, which had become the only way forward- the fences that lined the pillars had extended to block my way near the stairs on the other extreme side of the Alpha Barracks.

Leaving behind the downed monster, which was producing all sorts of strange noises as it was struggling to get up with its broken bones, I got into the company office and shut the door behind me, drowning the threats of the creature behind me.

The company office wasn't spared from the world's transformation either. The glasses were all fogged with thin layers of muck. Were there blood? I couldn't tell for sure. The electronics such as the many computers used to access the army's own intranet were all in various stages of disrepair. The plastic skin of the radios and computers were all greyed out, blackened. Some were cracked and uneven in colour. Boards and other internal parts were sticking out in some. Peripheral hardware were all left in a state of disarray, as if the staff here had decided to all just rush out clumsily for an extended holiday.

The floors... The floors had become grating instead of tile and cement while the walls separating one office cubicle from another were torn in many places, revealing rusted-out rebar frames not unlike the ones found in a condemned building or abandoned construction site. If knowledge serves, they weren't supposed to be inside... Nothing was in working condition. A lone fluorescent light in the centre of the office provided little. The L-shaped flashlight on my left chest was doing all the work again, giving me a reasonable but insufficient circle of vision.

Then came a roar in the dark.


	6. Chapter 1, Part 5: Shot

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 5: Shot**

The roar was a cue for me to conceal myself- It came from the back of the office area, way behind the single working fluorescent lamp. The owner of that animal voice was invisible, but it sounded somehow familiar... The shock of the hostile growl had forced me to crouch in one of the cubicles, the chest-high office divisions giving me a pretty cosy and dependable barrier to hide behind.

Then there was stomping- I could feel the ground shaking slightly under me, as if the thing weighed a ton. Its footsteps sounded out like wrecker balls, like a ton and each step the monster took frightens me- The prospect of having to face such a formidable opponent frightens me per say. As I started looking around for an alternative to facing the unseen beast directly, the footsteps grew louder, and something crashed, as if the beast had thrown a table across the room.

I couldn't stop myself from having a peek as the footsteps came towards me, slowly but steadily. Sticking my head up slightly, enough for me to see, I almost regretted having an intel on my foe- As if the mere sight of the creature was enough to drive me insane. It was the same thing that nearly pigstuck me in the Bravo company building, or at least, they belonged in the same species, if I could describe any better.

It was muscular, huge, wide and tall- very nearly two metres in height. It was like a body builder on drugs and steroids, except steroids do not elongate your neck, and make your head face the wrong way. The thing had an exceptionally long neck, which arches to extend its head backwards, allowing it to see behind in a way- its face was upside down. My quick peek had also told me that its back was facing the front, not its chest, so in a way, it was walking backwards... Which meant its arms were facing the wrong way too and I haven't seen its legs.

In its arms was a rifle with bayonet, an AR-15 or M-16, not that it makes a phenomenal difference. Its arms... At the end of each of its muscle-lined thick trunks of arms were dozens of thin and wiry tentacles in the place of human fingers and with these, it wound its arms around its weapon to itself, as if the weapon has become a part of its arm, an extension if you will. I couldn't help but to notice something etched into its skin and flesh on its left upper arm- a cross formed by two old rifles, reminding me of something I failed to achieve a year ago, and vague... so much more pain. My subconscious attempt to remember manifested itself in the form of a headsplitting headache, so I forced myself to stop. 'It's not good for you, Bryan, not good for you...' I thought as I blocked out everything. It was not good indeed, as I had to focus on survival for the time being- Getting distracted would only hand over a mound of trouble to me.

As I took a glance from below the wall, I had done it a moment too slowly, and it seems I was spotted as well- The evidence was overwhelming, with the cocking of a rifle which was an audible cue for panick. It meant a 5.56mm bullet was loaded and ready, and with a pull of the trigger, it could potentially be sent hurtling towards me at roughly twice the speed of sound. I could die before I knew what was coming.

As my eyes wandered after the risk I took, I was able to spot a hole leading forward to the next office cubicle, and just as I was about to act on this chance opportunity at escape, an unexpected gunshot sent me scurrying for it. The resultant bullet had punched a hole where my naked face was- a split second thought of that was enough for me to crawl like a mole through to the next cubicle. Being subtle was no longer a choice for me- If I hadn't been seen, then I must have been quite audible, and by now I must be making alot of noises from the way I was panting and scuffling- My joints weren't bare at all and the LBV I wore makes an ever so clumsy me clumsier...

More heavy footsteps and a loud, aggressive roar, as if the giant had spotted me. As I cleared the hole through the office divider, another bullet punched through the dividers, right above me. There was a sharp pain in my ears- a testament to the power of the monster's M-16, or at least how loud it could scream. My ears went deaf, catatonic from the trauma inflicted on it. My entire body was numb from the shock- I could barely keep tight the fist that was holding onto the rifle butt.

In the cubicle I was in, the divider separating it from yet another office space had fallen off entire, allowing me to pass through without as much difficulty as I had with the dog hole. I couldn't stall any longer- Getting up quickly, I fled as fast as I could, disregarding my formidable foe's superior armament. Taking advantage of the cover provided by the cluttered furniture around the dark back end of the office, I threw myself across the room, equipment and all, crashing near the door that was supposed to lead me out of the accursed office and next to the stairs I wanted to ascend.

Although I was in pain from the impact, I didn't wait to scramble on my feet and rush out before the next crack shot hits me. As if to confirm and heighten my fears, a bullet rips through the door I had gone through, breaking glass and splintering wood. It didn't just splinter wood and break glass- When was I shot, I could not remember. Was it the first shot or the last? I was hit around the back, and there was pain unlike anything I felt before, circled by a ring of numbness. I was surprised I could remain standing.

The aggressive grunts and footsteps of the backwards-walking aberration of a human was following me. I could only run away upwards, and with every step I took the pain in my bullet wound intensified. After clearing the stairs, it became tempting to just collapse and forget about surviving. After all, was it ever worth it to just live? Thoughts of suicide forced themselves into my mind as a viable alternative to a slow death, but with difficulty, I blocked them out.

A silhouette stood at the end of the corridor, a rather ominous one- human, but somehow disturbing, something that I wouldn't want to even look at, to even face. I gave the first door I saw a try with my good shoulder, and it worked- I busted into the bunk and locked the door behind me. My vision had already begun to swirl, as if I was a Goldfish in an aquarium. The pain had become unbearable- I had clearly overestimated myself, the first five minutes. 'What was that thing? That thing in the corridor?'

My mind worked sluggishly as I slammed into a locker; leaning against it for much-needed support- my legs were giving way. With all the energy I could muster, I crawled into the bed next to it, and lay down on my good side, 'So this is how it feels like to get shot...' Perhaps as an unconscious way to cope with the unfamiliar event of getting shot, I thought with a somewhat humorous ring to the notion. The swirling gave way to redness, and finally darkness. In the far distance, I could hear the PA system blare the same trumpeting score that would accompany the national flags when they were hoisted down.

"... Paid as a regular, you will be treated like a regular..." A voice said- It reminds me of how a salesman attempts to promote his wares, except everything he offers seem obligatory.

"...Once in a lifetime opportunity..." The voice continued its convincing. Even in my dreamy state, I could feel the repulsion I felt then...

"..." I was still speechless- or was the dream meant to be this way? I could not tell. I could not tell if it was even a dream, or a hallucination. The latter seemed to make more sense... As I could not remember anything to do with a 'Once-in-a-lifetime opportunity'.


	7. Chapter 1, Part 6: Kenny

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 6: Kenny**

It was as if my body knew there was danger nearby- I woke up with a jolt, after what seemed to be only a five minutes blackout, and when I did, I was utterly surprised: The bed I was on was perfectly clean, if not only slightly tarnished by consistent use. The metal furniture around me were all in good condition, shining a healthy grey due to the common paint applied. There was no blood, no gore, no God-damn mannequins with human organs in them, as if they had all evaporated the moment I fell unconscious. It was as if nothing had happened, that the Cackling Fools and... Were all just part of a hellish nightmare... Except...

I was still wearing my LBV, and my knees and elbow were still shielded with military grade joint pads. Then, in a moment of stomach-lurching mind-jog, I remembered that I was shot, yet there was no pain in my back, no feeling of a foreign, metallic object buried deep within my flesh. 'I must be numb...' I thought as I sat up carefully, trying not to agitate the nerves where my gunshot wound was located, yet there was nothing even then- It was either my body was doing a superhumanly fine job of coping with a trauma that would have incapacitated a commando, or I was never shot at all. A quick examination on my left shoulder (the bad one) with my hand gave me the answer in the fashion of an involuntary scream from my body and mouth.

What had happened before could have just been a construct of my mind, yet the evidence seems to contradict this. Looking around for one form of first aid or another, I saw a table at the end of my aisle, and on it one of those green metal boxes with a white circle trapping a red cross within it. A first aid kit- It must have been relocated there by the inhabitants. Every bunk was supposed to have one in a glass case... This one brings to mind a hearsay that several men were given a few days of weekend confinement for breaking the window of an emergency medkit box. With great difficulty, I got up and sat by the table, hungrily opening it up as the pain was driving me off the cliff.

I had plenty of time to think of my unusual circumstance as I bumbled about trying to fix my shoulder the way a sixteen year old could fix an airbus. I was the evidence that everything was real, yet the bunk I was in... It was as if I had entered a completely different room from the one I had remembered. Taking off my protective vest and the fabric upon my back, I poured antiseptic clumsily into my wound- A skyscraper worth of pain had just fallen on top of me. My hands were shivering as I started rolling some bandages around my shoulder, as if the room was in the middle of the Arctic wastes. I felt it again as I covered the gaping hole in my shoulder. It was something I could die from. Thoughts of my circumstances had probably brought me back from the dead.

"Was it all..." I said, my voice sounded out as a dry whisper due to what was probably thirst from a long sleep if everything that had happened was all just a nightmare. I couldn't complete my sentence, as I couldn't find the right words in this sea of confusion I was thrown into. With difficulty, I managed the impossible, "Just... A dream?"

The signs were pointing in all directions. The very bloody clothes and LBV I was putting back on was pointing to my front while the room was pointing me backwards- The answer could only be had if I searched for it, so I began observing my surroundings. My rifle butt was nowhere to be found. I was afraid I had lost the only remnant of my missing weapon when I saw what was standing at the foot of my bed- A fully assembled rifle. Picking it up, I couldn't help but smile a victoriously spread grin, but it faded quickly when I realised I was still missing a magazine and bayonet, and the weight of the rifle felt different somehow...

Opening my wife up, I came to a shocking realisation that I was hoping too much- The inner mechanisms were missing. The bolt-carrier was gone, along with all of its accompanying parts. All I had was the skin of the SAR-21. The guts were all but gone. Looking around me, I could only gasp at the reality of my situation. The bed was never mine to begin with. The locker was missing my name and there was no one else in bunk with me. Outside, the scenery or the lack of it seeks to terrify me even more- there was a thick fog blocking my view of the outer world. Even the ground of the parade square had disappeared under the veil of the strange mist- a weather phenomenon that shouldn't be in Singapore. The hellish nightmare I thought was what was happening was actually a living hellish nightmare, except it had changed into a different nightmare...

The stunning blow became a little too much for me, having a mind as active as a Schizophrenic Mozart. My head was actually throbbing at the fear rising like a monster tide within me, and I fell back in bed, my legs unable to stand in that tide. Clutching my head and closing my eyes for a moment, I tried to calm down, but it was a tough battle, like going up against a professional boxer with the little physical training I had as a logistician soldier. The sound of gunshot woke me up, and my tired eyes snapped open. The turn of events had reenergised me- Getting back onto my two feet, I quickly backed up against the only door leading into the bunk I was in, hastily locking it to prevent a hostile entry. The gunshot could come from anyone- A fellow victim of this otherworldly happening, or one of those... Boltcarriers.

Boltcarriers- The name for those grotesque AR-15 wielding musclebound twisted individuals had randomly came to mind, perhaps from the nervous stutters of my raped thinking. Nevertheless, that name for them sounded just about right aesthetically; even if it came from an earlier technical thought I had regarding the missing piece in my rifle that bled into current train of thought. The backwards-looking monstrosities were indeed carrying bolts of death, after all.

Getting away from the door in an attempt to adjust my strategies, I backed against the wall between the door and a window next to it, a window that separates the room from certain death by falling. The door was too weak to protect me against a well-placed shot. Heck, even the concrete wall was doubtfully strong enough. Peering cautiously through a corner of the window, I gained no intelligence from my venture- no muzzle flares, no silhouettes before the misplaced fog and there was no Boltcarriers nor Cackling Fools in sight. Returning back into hiding, I leaned against the wall with my rifle hugged closely to my chest like a man's teddy bear, resting, as a few more gunshots sounded in the day.

Ten seconds passed, thirty. A minute passed, two. As my patience became worn, I was beginning to roll the dice between staying behind and allowing myself to be besieged, or abandoning my new place of relative safety to investigate the skirmish in the middle of the fog. Thankfully, it wasn't a necessary dice roll- A fairly human shout gave me new found hope that the gunshots had come from friendly forces instead, and even more shouting that were clearly human reinforce it. The new question was, do I go after him? That too, became moot when I could hear the footsteps of a fellow soldier ascending a flight of stairs, then there was banging on the very door I had locked to secure my wellbeing. Then came the pleas of mercy,

"Open up! Open up man! They're after me!" Without a second's hesitation, I did as I was told by the desperate guy on the other side of the door, and I was rewarded with him colliding into me. I fell on my back, but somehow, it didn't hurt as much as it did before, though it still felt like a tree was growing through my shoulder. The panicking soldier himself fell over me- I was fortunate enough that he wasn't very heavy. He was scrawny in fact. Wasting no time, I rolled him aside to get up and lock the door- Whatever the fellow was running away from won't be so nice as to ask before entering the bunk.

After making sure the door was locked, I turned around to face a recovering friend- And I was pleasantly surprised. He was one of my bunk mates, a friend who had been with me for a huge chunk of my NS 'career'. Third Sergeant Kenny Chee; A rather short, and as said, scrawny man who appears unspectacular, what with his mushroom hairstyle and huge round-eyed spectacles thrown in. That is, if you don't know what was in his mind. Kenny was a brilliant guy, a genius in the sciences. What he lacked in strength, he made up for with his endurance and stamina- He was an outstanding runner, and he could his own share of loads just like any other men of bigger sizes, very unlike how the general public would expect of a 'nerd'.

It took him some time to recover from his serious fall and recognise me- He had probably never expected to see another friendly human being, and I couldn't agree more with that mindset. His pained expression went from being desolate to one of pleasant, happy surprise, "It's you!"

"Third Sergeant Bryan Li, at your service." The feeling was mutual, I could even quote cheerfully despite the crazy groans coming from outside. Offering a hand to pull him up, my rediscovered friend took it, and with a jerk, I helped him to his feet. Strangely, it didn't hurt at all- The sudden motion should have disturbed the serious wound on my shoulder. It was the positive turn of events, the equivalent of a faith healing session to me as it would be to a devout churchgoer, "Glad to see someone else's alive!"

"So, you know what's going on here?" He was complete lost- Unfortunately, this feeling's mutual too. Kenny was in uniform, but without the same protection I had, but it was more than made up for with his pistol, which I observe out of the corner of my eyes. It appears to be a P226, a standard issue sidearm within the SAF, "One minute I was eating and the next..."

"Huh, you too?" I cut him short from his dragged out silence with a hint of familiarity and identification- We were both victims of the same strange happening, which could be anything that could easily spring out of a science fiction book, or a horror novel, or even a fantasy one. Casually pointing at his sidearm as he was sitting on the table, resting, I continued, "Where did you get it from?"

"Oh, this marvel of technology?" He smiled with pride. Pride in what I have no idea- Despite being close confidants for more than a year; he was still quite a mystery to me. We were two very different people. He plans to major in several of the sciences and go on to research, while I aspire in the literary world. He can be quite a speaker and extrovert, while I prefer to hang back all the time; I was never the life of a party, if I would ever attend one. Usually, I relish loneliness. It gave me time to think and reflect, "Found it on a cookhouse table. Saved my life, it did!"

"I wish I was that lucky..." I replied and gestured to my shoulder, bringing his attention to it. He appeared shocked for a moment. Anyone would be. Since when do you hear of people getting shot in Singapore? Firearms or anything that even resembles firearms are banned on the island, "Hope I get out of here soon or I'd have to amputate."

"Let me have a look, maybe I could do something about it." My good old friend offered in return, and I accepted. He was a certified medic- It was a wonder why he wasn't made one in the army. Hence starts the ritual of removing my gear again. Off came my LBV, my number four top and then the green admin T-shirt, "That's a lot of blood! And you're doing it all wrong! It's too loose and it won't do you any good!"

Kenny began unwrapping the blood bandages- It didn't hurt; It was probably the doing of my most recent adrenaline rush, and my body's way of coping, "Bryan... I don't see any wounds..."

"What? But... I was shot!" Bewilderment sets in as I started patting around my shoulder to confirm his observation- He was right all along. My skin was slick with partially dried blood, but the gaping hole in my flesh was gone, as if it had sealed up without my knowledge.

"Well, I know you won't kid... Besides, the one-inch hole in uniform... And the blood..." At the very least, Kenny believed me, supported me. He was a true friend indeed- Anyone else would have branded me a liar in this situation, "What's going on..?" There was no way of explaining. I could only look at him, and the first aid kit. I was lost for words- The laws of nature have been turned on its head. The pain and sensation of the bullet in my shoulder was all too real that it couldn't have been a delusion. There was a pregnant pause between us as the feeling of unease grew around us- Nothing was familiar anymore. It was as if the world had been overwhelmed by chaos.

"So what do we do now?" Kenny asked as I was putting everything back on again, breaking the silence which was growing louder by the minute- The animalistic screams outside had ceased some time ago.

"We look for other people..." Softly, I replied- It was as if the world was turning against us, playing with us, and it was doing a good job at it. Picking up my rifle, with my buddy behind my back, I proceeded to unlock the door, and again, I ventured forth beyond the safety of a bunk.


	8. Chapter 1, Part 7: Into The Fog

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 7: Into The Fog**

It felt good to have someone with you, someone who isn't in bloody, ragged clothing, someone who doesn't have a head convulsing as if a thousand volts of electricity was applied through it. Companionship, it helps to keep a person sane in an insane world. Before the darkness then the fog came, the world was crazy enough, more than enough to drive me near the edge- An occasional dose of friendship was what kept me from jumping off the edge, though I prefer not to think about what forced me to walk the plank in the first place. Now, with the world turned inside out, friendship had become so much more important...

The walls outside were no longer on the verge of crumbling and collapse, but they were still strangely grey and dirtied, when it was supposed to be beige or white. The floor was dusty, as if the soldiers allocated in Alpha had not been doing their job sweeping it for months. The tiles had lost their reflection, and some were even cracked. The drains following the corridor's railings were all black with Stillwater aplenty, and patches of algae sullied the length of it. Something was still very wrong...

"I got another five more bullets, you know, if you want to know..." Kenny reported softly in his usual technical manner of speech- At least, he was very conscious of our tactical position. Our partnership would turn out to be fruitful indeed, unlike how I would have said about my previous 'friendships' with people thus far, "Wasted ten nine millimetre bullets on something that just wouldn't go down..."

Apparently, Kenny had decided that I take point, seeing that he never spoke about taking charge. Leadership had become a flexible thing, as the both of us were sergeants, and neither of us was any better than the other, or at least, that's my knowledge. Our next move was to sweep the second level of the Alpha Barracks, and this we did within a minute- There were nothing in our way, or rather more appropriately, we weren't in the way of any aberrations so far. Our exploration yielded nothing, until we came to the second last bunk from the stairs on the other side.

Following the little training I had taken in urban operations, we stormed the room, with Kenny taking the lead, seeing that he was better armed with a workable gun, while I was stuck with a gutted SAR-21. There was nothing to shoot, and we searched the bunk, following Kenny's advice that it was key to survival. We opened all lockers, but few could even be opened. Most were just bloated with clothes and items that I could never use- until I came to one suspiciously half-opened footlocker.

Opening the only drawer at the top of its cavity, there was a handheld walkie talkie hidden within its confines. It would have been useful, had it not been for the fact that each radio could handle a dozen channels at the least, meaning I could easily miss any screams for help, and anyone within my range could easily miss mine, if it ever comes to that. Picking it up, I gave it a try nonetheless. Switched on, it displayed a simple digital screen, and a digital battery full on juice. I tried sweeping through the channels, but there was only silence returning the call. Kenny came and marvelled at the gadget as he normally would- He had a thing for technology, "A walkie talkie, great! The brand's Roan, a China product. Could last only a day on full batteries..." With his helpful advice, I started rummaging through the drawer to rectify that issue, and to his credit I found a pack of four AA sized batteries, more than enough to last us through this nightmare, if it could end. I clipped it to the right breast of my LBV, flanking my still-glaring flashlight to my left. My roster of equipment came together just nice- Things were going well for once.

On exiting the bunk, it got even better- There was static, and static, to my meagre knowledge, meant someone else was trying to communicate with us, only albeit unsuccessfully due to interference. I stopped in my track, with Kenny flanking me, attracted to anything technical, be it problems, by default, and he was a pal too at diagnosing his patients, "Must be this... Mist at work... The mist is blocking our transmission!"

With Kenny helping to fiddle around with the pricey gadget, in an attempt to get through to whomever was on the other side, the static grew louder, and louder. At one point, we discovered that the volume was not to blame. As time passed, instances of voices could be heard- Our efforts were paying off nicely. Putting his mind on things which my artistic brain has no clue about, more of the voice could be heard. It was human, and it was encouraging, at least, that's the start. As Kenny calibrated the instrument more, it began sounding horrible, a corruption of what we thought it used to be. It began to sound like growls, and then something animalistic we knew all too well, "What the hell?" I exclaimed in disgust- The radio had destroyed my hope, replacing it with a gloom that matched the fog, "Bryan!"

He was staring behind me, pointing his P226 at something obscured by the fog. I turned around, and witnessed a shadow stumbling awkwardly towards us, just ten metres away, just within the boundary of our senses. It appeared large, but not as gigantic as the Boltcarrier. It seems to be my height, but taller than Kenny, as he was shorty even for a Chinese. It has muscles, but leaner, less bulky- All the same, it looks like it could pull break me in two with all those meat.

As the thing got closer, it revealed itself to the detriment of our morale- Similar to the Boltcarrier, its back was facing the wrong way, towards us when it was walking in our direction. Its legs followed its torso as well, becoming something that resembled bird legs. Only its arms were right, in the cruelest sense, as if they were surgically removed and fixed on opposite sides. Its head was only different in that it was split vertically in half from the root of its neck, while its neck was elongated to allow it to face backwards, its face upside-down. The two split sides of its head were like tentacles, each with its own eyes, and half-mouths lined with inhuman fang-like teeth that could take a chunk of flesh with it. In its hands were blades- unclear as they were from the distance and interfering mist, I could deduce that they were bayonets.

As it came at us a metre further, which felt all too close, I could see leathery skin, but in the place of a marksmanship badge carved into the flesh of its left arm, it had huge, graffiti-like tattoos covering the skin of both its arms and legs, and parts of its body: A yakuza of some sort from the scrounged from the unknown bottom of anyone's nightmare. Bullet-holes marked its back (which was facing us), appropriately so as Kenny exclaimed, "That's the thing that won't die!"

Panting lightly and sounding as if it was choking on its own blood and saliva, the monster screamed at us before charging straight at me. Kenny opened fire and as the creature got closer, I ducked out of the way, inevitably slamming into the metal railing of the corridor. Kenny was only able to get some three bullets into it before it thrusts its bayonet out like some trained martial artist. The creature was still standing even after that, taking something that should've killed a person instantly. I was at its feet and a sense of urgency rose in me- It could stab me anytime.

Without thinking, I gave the dual-armed monster a whack in its backwards facing knee, a whack that must have been a hard one as it caused the thing to fall on its knees. As if knowing that it would expire soon, it let out a monstrous snarl before Kenny put a bullet in its head, or the root of its neck as its head was sectioned in half. It fell backwards cinematically, from the force of the gunshot as the creature, perhaps in retribution, showered Kenny in its blood from the centre of its torso before falling over in defeat. I could see my friend recoiling backwards as if it was acid- perhaps it was to his sense of smell. It was the first of those otherworldly things we killed, after I had been hit with a pipe, shot at, and after we spent ourselves running and lashing back in vain for most of the morning. God knows what Kenny had suffered to get this done, other than expending ten freaking plus rounds on the tattooed monstrosity.

"Heh! Disgusting!" Kenny exclaimed in disgust as he attempted to wipe the blood off his face and arms, which he wasn't successful at. He resorted to wiping them on his sleeves and clothes, using the parts that weren't stinking with the blood. I was just lying down there, stunned and afraid, even after the dual-wielding creature was slain. I was shivering all over, and some of the blood had gotten on me. Kenny offered me his hand, perhaps as a payback for the same thing I did for him back then.

"Third Sergeant Kenny Chee at your service," He said as he smiled crookedly, attempting in vain to dispel the tension hanging in the air with a running joke. I was only glad he was standing there, offering me a hand that wasn't disembodied from the elbow, and I was glad I was lying there, panting for my breath instead of just lying there, still and pale. I took his hand and stood up with his help. After that, he checked his ammunition, and there was a great shortage of it, "I have one bullet left. It's chambered behind the barrel." He couldn't be more accurate than that.

Reluctantly, we continued upwards to the third floor, mutedly agreeing to each other that we would retreat out of the building if we encounter yet another monster in the vicinity. We climbed the stairs, and as we reached the third floor, we found a paper lying on the ground. Something about how the words were written with red ink, in cursive, unusual handwriting caught my eye. Picking it up as Kenny took cover behind the wall following the stairs, I read it in my head, aware that I would be preaching my doom if I attract any attention:

_In the world of our God, to all she serve objects of their mind, soul and heart. To the bad he serve the nether realms of their ailments on their plates and to the good, manna for their ailments, drawn from their hopes and happiness. Through these signs of our God will you know if you are indeed favoured. This is but__

There were more, but the rest of the page was covered in blood, smudged upon the paper in the shape of a hand. It was a defilement of knowledge to me, as I treasured books and guard them with my life- Heck, I wanted to produce such treasures in the future. Folding it up gently, I kept it in the pocket of my trousers.

"What is it?" Kenny inquired as he peered from his cover once in a while, looking out for imminent danger. Needless to say, even with my passion for literature, a yearning to learn it and efforts aplenty to learn it, I had no idea what the strange writings were telling me- Perhaps it was due to the obscured texts, or I just wasn't good enough, though I felt inclined to try not to blame myself as it seemed religious, something way beyond me. I was never a religious person. Being born into a family half-converted into Christianity did not help, even if three quarters of my years were spent in churches on and off in the weekends. I never embraced religions- It clashes with my kind of logic, and I could never grow to accept them as part of life except as a way to study philosophy, sociology and I was only marginally interested in the former.

"I have no idea... Let's keep moving." I said, and we started covering grounds again, not that there was much to cover. All the bunks upstairs were inaccessible, just like the ones when the world was much darker, filled with rust and blood...

"Great, now what do we do? Where do we go now?" Kenny whined- He wasn't much of a decision maker, even in his chosen field of expertise. He was more of an explorer. Give him a map, and he'd search under every single rock and branch on the map. He was an explorer of science and math, and he would always try to absorb as much as possible. The world as it was seems too much for him now, though, I wasn't faring any better. I was an explorer of the arts, an explorer, not a decision maker. Still, responsibilities shouldn't be thrown around like that... "There's no one else!"

"I say we head to HQ. There's bound to be someone there." I replied after much thinking and pacing. The base was far too large for us to scour building by building, corridor by corridor, room by room and brick by brick. The HQ was the best place to find any fellow men, and competent ones too- It was where all of the general staff of the base were sleeping and working at. It was where we would assemble for a parade, and it was where many would work in the offices and stores. The building was the biggest. Not to mention, we could even scrape together some supplies if we need to. It was our best bet before we make our way, busting the gates to our freedom.


	9. Chapter 1, Part 8: Fly High The Flags

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 8: Fly High The Flags**

The headquarters was directly opposite of the Alpha Barracks, though the parade square was humongous- Good for a thousand soldiers to put up an ambitious, impressive parade with tanks and armoured personnel carriers accompanying them. It would take a dangerous minute or two to dash through it, if we could even afford to run anymore, what with our various exhaustive brushes with death. To quietly trek through the open concrete land had its dangers too- We don't know what was lurking out there, and to spend even five minutes completely exposed could mean certain death. To sneak along the edges of the parade square in low profile, what with all the buildings where the walls could provide cover was an idea too, but the distance would be more than doubled, and so will the risks to life and limb. We had to cross the parade square, now buffeted by a fog that wasn't supposed to be there.

Climbing down the stairs, we started our journey out in the open. Taking my first step onto the once-familiar parade square, I realised just how vast and daunting it had become. The impossible mist had its way of stretching things. Distance was impossible to measure; hence the space before us seemed to stretch into white infinity. Letting off a sigh to relieve the sense of uncertainty and nervousness in my chest that was starting to weigh like a large stone, I switched off the L-shaped torch upon my breast, which was of no use on since it was dawn and would only attract unwanted attention, I turned to Kenny, who was just as intimidated as I was. I nodded to him- I had only one thing to say, and I didn't have the words for it. I was never much of a speaker.

We sprinted, sprinted like we did in some intensive speed training. The eerie surroundings was giving my feet wings, and I could have sworn I heard some distant... Sounds. Perhaps it was all in my head, and I was scaring myself into a flight like never before. The distance was further than we thought, and after a while, we had to slow down to a run, then to a jog. It was so much further than anticipated. In a flicker, it occurred to me as if the distance must have been tweaked, but that would just be absurd- I could just be going the wrong direction, yet the edges seem too out of grasp...

Soon, my radio started blaring static again. Stopping, I took the opportunity of someone attempting to broadcast to stop for a breath. It was then that I realised I was breathing alone. Kenny had disappeared out of sight without a trace. Hoping that he would catch up with me, I waited, and as I waited, I took the dysfunctional device in hand, I pressed the talk button and tried to broadcast from my side, "This is third sergeant Bryan Li, say again, over."

The only reply I was rewarded with was louder static. It wasn't enough for me- It had only served to build anxiety in me. Someone could be screaming into his walkie talkie right now, just a few minutes from death that could be avoided with some assistance, "Hello? Identify yourself. This is third sergeant Bryan Li, over."

Then came the faint cue of a growl or groan through the radio, under the heavy currents of static. The radio wasn't hope. It was the opposite. In the short distance, I could see figures coming towards me, their strange gait suggesting something was not right, whether they be friends or enemies. What I needed to do next became a dilemma. I didn't want to leave a friend behind, especially one who I need, yet to honour our code I had to fight an unknown number of strange things coming at me. I had to bolt- If it was me in his place I would understand, I tried reasoning with myself. I couldn't, but my fear had a way of coming to life, and guiding my feet. The only consolation I could gather from this was that he was intelligent, and if he survived they would regroup in HQ.

I was able to scrap together the energy to escape. Running away, I looked over my shoulder constantly, fearing that whatever was close by wasn't taking off after me. I was hoping in vain, at the same time, that Kenny would pop out of the white shadows to join in. Luck was never there when I needed it. It was never there for me, nor my friends, nor my radio, which started dying the further I was from my tormentors.

Further into the parade square, a shadow appeared before me, the same human silhouette that seemed disgusting to look at, yet which I couldn't point the finger at the reason why. As I laid eyes upon it, a headache broke out- which distracted me from the real danger. There was a flash and a loud bang, which forced me to prone. I was sitting duck in this position, but the alternative would be a glorious charge that could only result in my death, or a cowardly retreat that could only warrant a bullet in the back. Soon after I hit the floor however, the shadow disappeared, "Who was that guy?"

Despite escaping a death by gunshot by an inch, I couldn't stay low in the middle of the field for long- The hostile calls behind me were beckoning the death lord to return. I could only follow the grim reaper- I was caught between him and his right hand, and the HQ was in his general direction. Thankfully, he was nowhere to be seen when the large complex came into view. The three prominent flagpoles came first. Looking up, just beneath the blanket of white particles blocking the sky from view, I noticed that the flags were hoisted halfway up. Someone had died, someone important. From what I learnt in my 'career', such a gesture was meant for ministers, especially the important ones. Yet so far, none had died recently...

The death threats in the distance from those Fools I evaded earlier returned my focus to the task on hand- Make one final search for survivors before calling it a day and evacuating the camp. As I was climbing the steps leading to the huge, open lobby of the HQ to carry out the mission and shake off the dogs on my tail, the speakers around the building came alive- They started playing a familiar tune, the same piece that came after I was shot in the shoulder. It was the same trumpeting cue that would accompany the rising and lowering of the Singapore, SAF and army flags. I turned around to look at the flag poles again, instinctually expecting three soldiers to be there pulling the lines- That reflex was deeply ingrained into my circuits after nearly two years of service.

There was no one to be found. Instead, what I found was the scenery changing before my eyes- the sky darkening along with the rest of the world, grime and dirt climbing atop tiles, floors and walls. The flagpoles were rusting quickly as if it was an accelerated video of the poles over fifty years. Disgusting blackness began engulfing parts of the brickwork in the parade square, as if the bricks were rotting along with the moss between and among them. Turning around, I saw the HQ aging and changing rapidly- The paint receding and in its place, rusted metal that shouldn't be there. The trees in the open space in the middle of the lobby started shedding leaves and dying, its life sucked dry by the ominous playing of the music. Fences were where they shouldn't be, erected in seconds the moment I turned to look elsewhere. The fog was replaced by an ever permeating darkness, doing much worse to my sight than the mist did. No words could summarise the conflux of emotions in me- I was muted by the horror unfolding.

Nothing could explain what I saw. Fences line the long width of the stairs I climbed midway, blocking my ascend. The top of the fences were enhanced with concertina wire, making it impossible to climb over. Where the skin-splitting wires broke off from the lack of maintenance, sharp, broken and bent bars from the crown of the fence facing towards me would replace its function. The only silver lining to the fences was a double-doors gate. Without thinking, I climbed up the remainder of the stairs and proceeded to unlock it, only to be denied entry by a heavy chain and padlock- both rusty, but still worthy. On one door of the gates was a board with writings on it...

_Fly high the flags,_

_Show to all your bet._

_Invert thy burdens,_

_Leave the country be._

_Follow this advice,_

_And thy burdens will lift._

It was a poem, a badly written one to my opinion. 'A waste of time...' I thought as I paid no more attention to it- I decided to use the most direct method of lock picking. Lifting my rifle up, I bashed the padlock with the butt of my rifle. The first blow did not disable it, so I started doing it repeatedly, and with each subsequent failure I became angrier, angrier at myself, but the medieval security was either too strong, or I was too weak to overcome it that my anger was insufficient to power my arms. Panting, my mind started working in ways that was somewhat unorthodox, 'Fly high the flags... The flags at the flagpoles were halfway up. Should I roll them all the way up?'

To circumnavigate the building in search of an alternative entrance would be a death wish- The darkness that substituted the fog was ominous, and there was no telling when my previous failings to kill my tormentors would come back to haunt me, 'There are weirder things now' And I was about right- The world changing, monsters from nowhere, an assassin shooting at me before disappearing out of thin air...

Returning to the flagpoles, I realised that even the sacred cloths were molested as well. My nation's flag had somehow fallen on the unclean ground, while the SAF and army flags were stuck on the hook where the flag line was tied to. Somehow, the flag on the floor spurred me on- I was no patriot, not even close, but I was never a rebel who would spit at his own birth country and home nation. Despite the many flaws my place had, it still harboured many fine memories... Though, with all the action going on, I could not recall any. Scooping up the Singapore flag, I tied it to the string and started hoisting it upwards to the top, allowing it to flap in the wind- Though I couldn't feel any.

As I moved on to the others, I started remembering the rest of the poem for some reason- Perhaps I was deriving actual instruction from it, 'Invert thy burdens, leave the country be?' With my humble literature background, I quickly deduced the meaning. The nation's flag was the country, and I ought to fly it the way it was, while the other two flags, representing my obligations to serve and the hardship I endured in service, ought to be 'inverted'. I took it as hanging upside down- The greatest dishonour one could bestow on a flag and what it represents. Despite my loathing for the army, I was still reluctant to fly it the wrong way- I was never the sort of offensive guy to outright insult anyone or anything...

In the end, I knew I had to do it, as I knew that, somehow, the crazy poem would open the gate to headquarters and any of my fellow friends and soldiers trapped within. Securing the SAF flag the wrong way up, I hoisted it up. I did the same for the army flag. Yet, nothing happened to indicate that my decision was the right one. I had to go back to check- I needed to know if I had disgraced myself for the right results.


	10. Chapter 1, Part 9: Trapped

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 9: Trapped**

The darkness seemed thicker than, as if I had been thrown into a tank of inky water- It almost seemed as if the darkness itself was alive, that the whole place was alive, and it was playing with my fear. Those passages I read, the poem that dictated me to show my dislike for the army... It was obvious something explicitly unusual was going on, but there was no human way of explaining it. As I neared the gate that weren't there to begin with, like the darkness and general decay of the camp, it came into view, the darkness withdrawing as my L-flashlight did its job loyally. Something had happened, something illogical but somehow expected- The chain and padlock had broke, 'What, were the lock rusted too badly? It can't be, I hit it with my rifle over and over again...' Deep down, I knew, it was the poem and the flags.

Pushing against the gates, they were heavier than expected. As I tried to open them, it took time to build up some momentum before I let go and allowed them to swing on their own. With the obstacle past, I continued on into the lobby of the transformed building. The first door I went to weren't there, as I had expected. I had been to the HQ numerous times before, for a myriad of reasons, and it had changed. In place of a door was an incomplete brick wall. Someone had walled up what was supposed to be an office. Out of the only incomplete part of the brick wall was hole at the top edge, with a pallid and thin arm sticking out. The smell coming from the hole was worst than a slab of month-old rotten meat filled with maggots. The arm wasn't moving and neither was there any sound coming from behind the wall, but I had to make sure...

Unclipping my flashlight and putting down my rifle, I took a deep breath and, hesitantly, held the wrist of the arm. I couldn't do it at first; my overactive imagination telling me that it would reach out and grab me by the neck, but thinking that it could be a life that can be saved helped. Taking the wrist, I tried to feel for any pulse- But no matter how I tried, the echo of a beating heart could not felt anywhere. Perhaps my training in basic first-aid was insufficient, perhaps I wasn't capable or he could be dead. I had to make sure. Tip-toeing, I looked into the hole the arm was coming out from with the help of my flashlight, and I realised that there was no office behind that wall- only yet another brick wall. That poor fellow was walled up, "Who would do such a thing?"

I couldn't help but to remember how trapped I am, how claustrophobic I felt no matter where I was... But I had to move on, and so I took up my rifle and went on. Making a circle around the dead or dying garden in the middle of the open-aired lobby, I discovered a door that was still unbroken and unlocked- It was ajar, and it was a man's toilet The lights were working better here- but they seem dim and subdued, as if the darkness around me was sucking the energy out of it. There was an occasional flicker from one of the bulbs. The toilet itself was in terrible condition, and it smelt much worse than a normal toilet, and there was that metallic smell again, mixed in with the fumes of rot and faeces. I couldn't imagine anyone hiding inside, but something caught my attention. I could hear slight breathing, and it sounded human enough, though I was afraid of what I might find in this... Alternate world, "Hello?"

There were three stalls in the toilet, flanked by three sinks, and it was hard to pinpoint which stall the breathing was coming from. Cautiously, I walked past the urinals producing much of the stench and proceeded to the first stall, "Anybody in here?"

There was no reply, and I had to assume the worst. Backing up a bit, I kicked the cubicle door open, only to find that the first stall was empty, but a few long, fleshy things were thrown inside, on the toilet seat, on the floor and the water tank of the toilet. It appears to be limbs, though I cannot be sure as they were all blackened and buzzing with flies. I could feel something rising from my stomach, and I quickly closed the door again before it rose any further. Perhaps the stench was coming from there.

It took me a while to remember what I was doing, what with the sights and smell, but I proceeded to the second stall. As I listened longer, I realised there was sniffing, and whimpering- It was barely there, but it sounded as if someone was crying in there. Kneeling down, I peeked under the second stall and simultaneously the third, but there were no feet, "Hello? I'm here to help."

I proceeded to open the second stall- I couldn't bring myself to kick it open knowing that something could be inside, crying, but the second one was empty, and relatively normal, "Don't be afraid, come out!"

Before I went to the third stall, I noticed something in the third sink opposite the third stall- The sink was smeared with blood all over. The mirror above it had a bloody handprint on it. Inside the hollow centre of the sink was a bayonet, and it was stained with blood- It looks like it was used before to kill, or even... My walkie talkie was acting up again. All of a sudden, the light bulbs above me exploded, plunging me into sudden, overwhelming darkness, only slightly alleviated by my flashlight, and there was creaking behind me. I couldn't turn around, I was dead afraid of what I might find, but knowing I had to, I whirled around, only for something to slam me to the wall. Something broke under my skull. I could hear sickening laughter as the crying disappeared, but I couldn't see the face of my assailant, only his torn clothes and leathery skin full of sores.

I was shocked from the impact, paralysed from the suddenness of the attack- I couldn't think for a moment. I didn't 'sign up' in the army for this, only to serve my damned two years and leave peacefully- Never had I expected all this to happen, and then this. As if taking advantage of my sudden weakness, the attacker stepped back and I could hear something swinging- It connected with the side of my face, but it didn't feel metal. It was more like PVC, but it still hurts like hell. As I collapsed, my flashlight came to the right angle for me to see who was brutalising me- A rather vicious and aggressive looking Laughing Fool was the culprit.

I couldn't fight back- I had lost my rifle and it was nowhere within my reach. My left hand was gripping the sink, and, remembering the bayonet I saw, I groped for it frantically as Fool stood there, admiring its work and laughing at me like an idiot, its thick saliva slobbering down its chin, mixed with blood. Then it started forward, and my hand could feel the hard handle of the bayonet. Taking it quickly, I stabbed the knife at the Fool just as it fell on me, about to tussle with me or strangle me or something.

I could feel the jolt as the blade of the bayonet carved its way into the Fool's chest- But I could sense that it was still going to stay alive even after it screamed like an animal, so I pushed the monster off onto the toilet floor from the knife in my hand- These creatures would not die easily, so I knew that single stab can never be enough. As it fell backwards to the floor, I held tight to my knife, and it didn't follow the Fool. Quickly, I began stabbing and yelling at it, and with every scream it make I did it faster. It tried to grab at my wrists, but I shook them off easily as they were weaker, and they grew weaker with every wound I render to it. It screamed with every stab, until there was silence.

By the end of it, I was panting as if I ran ten miles, and I was sweating profusely- But the deed was done and the toilet was mine, at least for the time being. I could see my hands before the flashlight- They were slick with some thick liquid- Blood. It was thicker than any normal blood. Getting up, I realised that I was aching all over from the fight, and there was a dull throb in my back. I could remember falling into the tap of the sink, and it must have bruised me.

I had to wash it all off, the blood. Somehow, it seemed to stink more than how blood usually does, as if it was already decayed before it broke out of the Cackling Fool. Turning around, I turned the handle of the faucet- It worked, surprisingly, and there was clear water coming from it. It took some time for the blood to come off, and it was during that time that I could feel something crawling on the back of my head, so I reached for it with shivering hands. It felt like oil, and as I brought my hand back around my head, I saw that it was blood- I must be bleeding from when I slammed against the wall. Seeing that the mirror was broken and splintered, I realised it must be the cause of my head wound. Swapping the back of my head with my hand, I started washing it- Wouldn't want it to get infected. Then I proceeded to wash my face- From the broken mirror I could still tell that there was still some Fool's blood on it, and the dirt and grime mixed with sweat on my face was driving me nuts. It didn't do much.

I was still very much shaken as I turned away from the washing basin, but I knew I had to continue searching for help and people to help- My friends could be out there for all I know, especially Kenny. Taking up my rifle again, I fitted the bayonet to my rifle- It was clean, I had washed the knife earlier as I hated blood so much. After walking out of the men's toilet, I knew I had to take the stairs straight away, as there was no elevator even in HQ- It was the standard amongst most army camps.

As I took the stairs upwards, my radio started broadcasting static again, but I was, at this point, giving up on it. Thinking back, it seemed to be bringing more ill fortune than good, as it seems to act up whenever monsters were close by. I couldn't help but to get pissed off by this, until something actually came through the speaker, "... This ... We ... In ... Please R-..."

It was mostly static, but there were clearly voices coming out of it, human voices. It made no sense, but judging from the limited range from the fog, whether or not it still exists in the darkness, a person was nearby, trying to get in contact with anyone with a radio. It filled me with hope. Without so much as wasting a single second, I took the radio in hand and tried to send over a reply, but to no avail- There was no response at all after I sent it. I just have to find them myself.


	11. Chapter 1, Part 10: Zuberi

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 10: Zuberi**

I was much more confident than I was, with the bayonet attached to the snout of the beast in my hands. With that in mind, I had at least three striking points now- The butt and barrel of my rifle for bludgeoning and the bayonet for stabbing or slicing. I was surprised at myself, how I could conjure up so many fashions for killing, within the single space of what felt like just an hour or two. A magazine was all that was left to complete my rifle- To find bullets however, would be a different question altogether- Where in this camp could I get my hands on real bullets? In the army, they were concentrated in ammo dumps, located in specific camps, and the one I am standing in, the one that was mutating, was not one of them from what I heard.

As I climbed up halfway through the stairs, something on the midway landing caught my eye. A newspaper clipping, an old one- Something that was most likely thrown on the floor as trash; It was an article that would most likely belong to the 'WORLD' section of The Island Times. It was just a scrap, and the date and title was obscured as a result:

_United States, Town of Silent Hill. A savage fire broke out in town, burning down six homes, injuring 4. A girl, Alessa Gillispie, 7, was critically injured and taken to Alchemilla Hospital for extensive treatment. The cause for the fire is under investigation; A police spokesman reveal that the source of the fire may have come from the home of a 'Gillispie' home, caused by the malfunction of an antiquated boiler. (The other paragraphs from the article was impossible to read, as they were covered by a bloody handprint)_

'Poor girl,' I thought, 'Poor mother...' Though I couldn't bring myself to bother too much about it- There were more current and dire things to worry about. After stowing it away by virtue of my unusual writer's superstition that good writing should not be mistreated but properly and ceremoniously disposed off if need be, I continued to ascend the stairs, only to trip on a broken part of a step- some of the metal edge that provides friction for the prevention of a fall was sticking out like a spike trap, and it was what caused my fall.

Despite the hard, protective pads and LBV I was wearing, the fall was still painful as the steps of the stairs were sharp where they had degraded, and I was unlucky enough to connect with them where my body was unprotected. Just as I was about to get up however, I could hear a click, and feel something poking at my already tender skull, "Don't move!"

It took my breath away the moment I realised what I had gotten myself into, and I could tell the look on my own face just by feeling the muscles, and I'm not ashamed to feel a bit panicky at the moment, but one small fact calmed me down enough for me not to do anything stupid- The voice sounded human enough, aggressive, apprehensive, rough, but human with emotions. So far, the things I had faced don't talk- Had it been otherwise I would have lost my sanity and will to live at this very moment, "Give me good reason not to blow your brains out!"

I recognised that voice. I could even construct the memory of that person in my head; I could see him with just my mind, "Zuberi, is that you?"

Zuberi was a Swahili permanent resident from Tanzania. If I got his story correct, his family migrated over due to the promise of opportunity, wealth, safety and health in Singapore, and he was drafted as part of the agreement on becoming a resident of the Lion City, not that it would be much of a hassle to him. He had already been through the military back in Tanzania, and he was the epitome of traditional manhood right from the start. If anything, he's got a temper, but at the same time, a soft side that seeks to always protect his friends and family, most likely coming from his orientation in that big family of his as the eldest brother, and you can imagine what he could have possibly done to defend himself and his family back in Tanzania.

Laughing gladly as he recognised me, Zuberi took me by the shoulder and lifted me up as I was still dizzy from the fall. From his gestures, I could tell that he was very glad to see me, "Have your rifle back. What you doing here, man?"

"Were you radioing in on me?" If he was the guy who did it, I could just call it quits on my last crazy attempt to rescue other trapped soldiers in camp- I was already risking enough, what with that encounter in the toilet. Blood was still crawling down the back of my head.

"No, must be someone else." Zuberi replied curtly. He was a tall and well-built man, about one metre and eighty in height. He was an imposing figure, especially for those who decided to peeve him, a group of people composed mostly of racially insensitive (there are still people like that about even this secular nation)and arrogant buttheads. This was cemented by his athletic and straightforward attitude, now hinted by the PT (Physical Training) singlet he wear along with his military trousers and boots- He had been doing workouts or something when 'this' happened, "We go find him, Bryan."

"That's exactly my thought." Despite how the mere presence of him seemed intimidating to some, I felt comfortable around him, especially in this mess that started before dawn. He was a very misunderstood individual ever since his days in BMT (Basic Military Training)- People think he had serious attitude and anti-social problems, but that's just his difficulty adapting to this strange new alien environment that was Singapore and of course, the aforementioned buttheads. In any case, the circle I had co-formed ever since BMT was very glad to accept him.

Together, we went through the second level together. The HQ was huge, as already obvious from its first floor. It was ovular, with a hole in the middle. That hole in the middle has corridor-bridges on the higher floors. If it needs two such bridges in the middle to make it convenient for the staff to travel in the building, then its huge in my book. They were both unusable now however- A huge chunk of them were missing from the middle, unless I felt adventurous enough to jump that four metre gap. There were four stairwells on each level, two at the front and two at the back. This architecture allows the building to be accessed from all sides, a wise decision, seeing how the HQ was planted right in the middle of the whole frickin' camp.

Half the level was already half explored by the man of the hour himself- according to him, there was only death in them and nothing else. Unsure of what he meant, we went on to check on the other half of the ovular building- which was across from the stair I went up. A dozen doors lined this part of the floor. The first, a man's toilet, had a broken door, one that even Zuberi could not kick down. In a way, I was glad it stayed that way.

The next few doors were impossible to open, being either locked or broken in some way. It was dead in the morning, and most of the doors should be rightfully locked. Those that should be open, such as the duty rooms, were somehow broken down in ways even an elephant cannot ram through- It felt almost as if something wants to keep us out of these rooms, or even direct us somewhere.

"Get behind me!" Zuberi bellowed before I knew what was going on. It was then that it appeared- Another one of those things, the kind that was fast on its legs and uses bayonets the last time I encountered one of them. A bloody wooden riot stick could be found on each of its hands, the crimson fluid dripping down what was supposed to be non-lethal guard-duty weapons. Its hands were stained in blood as well- There was no telling how many men it had killed before. Zuberi opened fire immediately with what looks to be the same silenced FN P90 that he had used to hold me at gunpoint earlier. As if that P90 was just shooting water, the... Wild One sprinted forward with its sticks split heads-first, shirking off the danger omnipresent in any firefight. Wild Ones- It was the only name I could come up with on account of its behaviour. Heck, with it introducing itself with a charge towards me all the time, I could hardly come up with anything.

I saw the Wild One took a dozen bullets everywhere, slowing down with every connected shots dealt to it, until finally, like Kenny, Zuberi put a bullet into the hole at the base of its neck to finish it off as it was struggling to stand upright. The blast knocked it backwards, screeching like nothing I could describe in its death throes, and we were spared from the generous spray of rotten blood, "I have few bullets left, we hurry now!"

With that, I could hear more of the creatures coming- Whether or not they were of the same 'species' as the same creature we killed before us I have no idea on, but it wouldn't matter if we were caught again. They were likely alerted by its friend as it was dying- As if we were cursed for putting it down. Quickly, we abandoned our low profile and started running, paying only a second's worth of notice to the doors we never checked, but we found another opened door close to the stairwell, which I locked behind us after we entered, "I think we should lie low here..."

The room we entered was a conference room, as it says from the tag on the door which I had only a split-seconds timing to look at, but inside, it was nothing like an ideal room for a meeting at all. The floor should have originally been carpeted with probably cement or concrete underneath, as many conference rooms in the army were like. This one was a nastier cousin of the original- It had gratings for a floor that formed the only layer between us and the dark pit underneath. A large cage was suspended in mid air above where the large, oval table should have been by no less than eight chains fastened to the surrounding walls. Shining my torchlight on it, I realised that it was occupied by the badly mutilated corpse of a soldier. The occupation of the dead man was obvious from the uniform. Somehow, it seemed familiar, as if I knew that person. At first, I thought it was Kenny from the uniform, but it wasn't, upon closer inspection- The corpse was too tall and brawny.

The calls of the aberrations outside grew louder- They were coming closer, so we retreated to a corner of the room around the back and sat. Should we wait long enough, I reasoned, they would lose track of us. At first, the intensity of the hellish voices outside grew louder, and in the climax of it I began hearing footsteps and snarls directly outside our door. Then there was some heavy pounding- Zuberi pointed his PDW at the door, anticipating a break-in, but as soon as the door felt like it was about to give, the creatures stopped forcing their way in.

Gunshots rang out without warning, punching holes into the door and nearly shocking me enough to make me yelp and reveal our position- Knowing that they may see us from their newly improvised peepholes, I switched off my flashlight and gestured for Zuberi to keep as quiet as possible. With the holes, the sounds outside became louder- I could even hear heavy breathing outside. Then there was another inhuman bellow outside, as if the thing that was trailing us was frustrated. The room exploded with more gunshots as more holes were made on the door- Then finally, there was the sound of heavy footsteps. Whatever it was, it was leaving, and rather quickly too, as if it was running from something.

I was in hell, and yet I was able to find to time to do the most mundane of things- to talk. In the midst of all the unexplainable things so far, it has become something of a luxury, and so are friends, especially ones whom I knew practically ever since the baby steps I took in the army.

"So, where did you find that gun?" In a hushed tone I asked my lost and found buddy. I was still afraid the monsters were still prowling outside the gates of our safe haven. I had always been curious about the P90 in his hands- It was a rare weapon in Singapore, where guns are already banned. The P90, as far as my limited knowledge could bring me, could only be found in the hands of specially trained counter-terrorist commandos- It was a rarity even amongst the red berets (which was the standard head dress of your 'average' commandos)

Zuberi appeared dazed for a moment after he lowered his weapon, perceiving the situation to be stable. It was as if he didn't hear me, but after a moment of staring at the holes made by whatever was chasing us, the Kenyan finally faced me. He was looking blankly at me at first, but eventually that look faded as he seemed to regain his senses. He must be stressing out, I thought, all the more important that we talk, "I found it in armoury. It was opened. It on palms of stone hands."

I could barely understand what he meant- But I had a very good idea what he was trying to articulate. With the regular rules of the world, my world, thrown out of the window, it allows a great degree of imagination. Had we been sitting in a cookhouse, enjoying our western breakfast with the rest of our circle, I would have gave him the eyebrow and asked if the heat had gotten to him, but at times like this, it wasn't out of place, as insanely surreal as it may sound.

"Great luck huh? Thank God for those stone hands." I joked, rather lamely- I couldn't think of any good ones, and the situation isn't helping. We fell into silence again soon, our ears returning to being fed with that stinging silence in which anything could happen anytime. There was something else however, that just could not leave my mind alone, "So, what do you think is happening?" Zuberi seemed to put some thought into it as he considered my question, or maybe he was just occupied with listening for any movements outside the conference 'cage' room we had taken refuge in.

"Punishment." Zuberi finally gave his answer as he was staring out into space, and it was an unexpected one. All along, I had expected cheesy science-fiction or horror tropes to jump out at me, but never anything to do with religion, if that was what his idea entails, "We are being punished."

"What? Punishment?" I was bewildered- Punishment? If it was true that we were all being punished, what were we being punished for? My head ached at the thought- In all this rush, there was nothing I could recall of my past that would haunt me in this manner. 'Why am I even thinking this way?' I thought, 'It's too crazy to be true.' There was never any logical relationships between punishment and the mess I had been experiencing- Punishment and guard duty would be a positive example; As were Punishment and confinement, but Punishment and monsters from the eleventh dimension does not seem to strike me as being sensible.

Before I could extract anymore elaborations from him, there was the impossibly loud playing of the flag-raising tune that we were all accustomed to stand at attention to. Now, it seemed to bring with it dread and tension- It seemed to herald the changing of the world, the more I realised as I thought about it. It brought me out of the steel hell the first time I entered it, and it brought me back into it as I reached the HQ. The sudden reawakening of the PA system had jolted us to alertness- Zuberi bolted upright and held his P90 before him, as if fearing that a stampede was about to go through the door. I had a different way of coping- I sat with my eyes instinctively nailing the ceiling, just waiting to see what the next flag ceremony cue would bring us. There was no stopping the shifting of the world's nature.


	12. Chapter 1, Part 11: Voice In The Dark

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 11: Voice In The Dark**

The cage had vaporised and the stench had gone with it. Twisted steel and blood mixed with rust were replaced with alternatives that were little better. The conference room had retained its old looks, with that ovular table and chairs, except that they had all aged for some reason. Zuberi seemed surprised- From the look on his face it seemed like nightmare unfolding. It was the look of someone new to this strange happening, and to yours truly who had been through but an hour of this madness, it was relief to me. From what I could gather, with less alteration to the environment comes fewer dangers. It wasn't the monsters, or maybe it was, but the hell that would seem to seep through the fogged version of the world seemed more oppressive, nightmarish.

"The room! Changing..." Zuberi remarked absently as he stared at his changing surroundings, about as bewildered as I was the first time I realised that the walls were alive. He continued to stare even after we had returned to the foggy state of the world. Despite the stereotype associated with a man of his build and athletic tendencies (and some might bring in his race and nationality), Zuberi Omani was a deep thinker, a wise person who wouldn't use his strength recklessly. It was just a shame that he would abandon his wisdom whenever he got too angry and upset- Though, woe to those who caused it.

"Zuberi..." I had to intervene in his moment of trance. Putting a hand on his shoulder to wake him up, I proceeded to unlock and open the conference room door after he responded, "C'mon." I threw open the door, pointing the lethal sharp end of my bayoneted rifle forward- Thinking that anything that fancies ambushing me would know how a spear in the eye would feel like. Zuberi supported me with his FN P90 over my shoulder- The beauty of teamwork. I surprised myself with my audacity, though the corridor outside was devoid of any living things to witness it.

Taking advantage of the lack of enemies, we searched the rest of the level, but our efforts yielded little results. I broadcasted my plea for a response, but it went unanswered. Two rooms were opened to us- A pantry area where I found a health drink which appears untainted. A source of hydration is always welcome- I kept it in my utility pouch for later use. The other room was another office area, one with cubicles lining all of its four walls. Despite its size, the room was unoccupied, so we set about ransacking the place for any form of supplies, or any shred of information that would explain what the hell was going on.

In the centre of the office area, I found an open book just left there, almost as if someone wanted it found. As Zuberi was busy roughing the desks, opening and shutting the drawers after spilling their contents, I started reading on the page the book was opened to. It was a diary of some kind, but much of it was obscured by bloody finger and handprints that weren't so subtle:

_(The date was smudged out by the dried blood)_

_... BMT was as good as my good buddies said it was. Get to meet more friends, learn stuff, but it was tiring. ..._

_November (The number was intercepted by dried blood, unfortunately)_

_... Never got to be best shot of my company. I thought I never missed. Turns out, I missed one too many. I could barely even pass the basic trainfire package at the firearms range. I suck. ..._

_(The date shows December something- The exact date was too hard to make out)_

_... Guess that's it for my BMT. I guess I'll miss Pulau Tekong, no matter how shitty it can get. I'll miss my friends definitely. I hope I won't be so incompetent as some of those Pai Kias (Chinese dialect, Hokkien, for gangster) say in the future. Those guys were the worst sort of folks. Can't deny that they were right about me at times though, I ..._

As much as I would like to read the naive diary of a newly enlisted recruit, I had little time for such a luxury. Skimming through the pages, I discovered that the diary had more entries than I expected. There was about a hundred pages, maybe more, with one entry per page- I estimated that this guy must have enlisted a year after I did, and must be almost a one-year soldier by now. As I flipped through the page rapidly, the back pages came into view.

They were packed tightly with the same derogatory words that filled the whiteboard I saw in the briefing shelter just after I woke up. Stupid, Weak, Lousy, Useless, Blur Sotong (A local slang for someone slow in the uptake), Cock... Whomever did all this was not a very nice person. Pages after pages at the back were filled with hundreds and even thousands of such words, some of which were vulgar to the clouds above. Another headache broke out at the side of my temple, and I closed the book immediately. Zuberi called me just in time, "Bryan!"

Quickly, I kept the book in my thigh pocket with a certain panic that I had no idea why it overcame me. Zuberi walked out of one of the cubicles he was ransacking through with a visible smile on his face, the well-kept white teeth of his contrasting with his dark skin. He was holding something up with his left hand, looking like some proud fisherman who had just caught the biggest salmon in the world. It was a rifle sling and a small box of... something. My L-torch wasn't shining directly at the items, so I couldn't tell what the box was. Omani's grin was infectious, I had to praise him, "Good find."

Both items were apparently useless to him, but not necessarily for me. Holding up the box under my torch, I immediately realised what it was- A box of bullets. How on Earth did it end up in an office, I had no idea, but it was well-appreciated. Reading the words on the box however, I was dismayed to find that the calibre was all wrong. The SAR-21 rifle I was holding was fed with 5.56mm rounds. The bullets in the box were 9mm balls designed for various submachineguns and pistols, "They not fit for my gun." Zuberi said- It wasn't the right calibre for his PDW either. A mixed blessing indeed, though the other item, a long, black thing, was evidently something I could use. It was a rifle sling, of the right design for my rifle. It would help to relieve the strain in my arms.

_In the world of our God, to all she serve objects of their mind, soul and heart. To the bad he serve the nether realms of their ailments on their plates and to the good, manna for their ailments, drawn from their hopes and happiness. Through these signs of our God will you know if you are indeed favoured. This is but__

The passage I read back in Alpha barracks came to me all of a sudden as I was attaching the sling to my rifle, though I had no idea why. It was a random thought. My imagination was especially prone to this- Not that I would argue against it. Straying in my mind has helped me with my writing- It was a sign of a creative imagination.

After searching through the second floor, we moved on to the third floor- The building was highly accessible with the stairs built in its four corners, so we had no trouble with that. 'The person who radioed in had to be here,' I kept thinking to myself, egging myself on to beat the vivid imagery in my head- I could imagine the third floor empty, and I could imagine a room with that person, except with his face bashed in, with blood all over the place. I was never a motivated person- I never understood why. Perhaps I never wanted to understand.

The first door was broken, as part of the world that seems to be falling apart before our eyes- Just like some of the railings facing inwards that had gaping holes in them. Zuberi wanted to knock it down, but there was no way that I could let him- As able as he was in strength, he won't be able to maintain this tempo for two dozen doors, and all the others that we may encounter in and out of camp.

We decided to make another circle around the building, trying all the doors, even shouting for a response if we ever came by a working, locked door. The fifth opened up into a media room of some kind, or a library. It was lined with rows of shelves, containing books layered with dust that should not have been, and there were computers as well, both the sort that allows you to access the army's own intranet and the kind that grants access to the outside world. Of course, none of them were working, as obvious as the fact that, despite being brand new hardware, they looked like they had aged fifty years, some even more, what with the LCD screens disjointed and the CPUs falling apart.

Searching through the room, there was little to be had, except for some strange writing on the wall:

_The path to freedom is through thyself,_

_Worry not for if the way trod is true,_

_Like books arranged on an archive's shelf,_

_Naught many a paths but one there are._

The strange writing was far from just vandalism. It was shining red, and the longer I look upon it and comprehended the words, the brighter it became. Eventually, it began stinging my eyes, and I could not look away, somehow mesmerised by it. My head began to throb with a headache like no other, the pain coming from nowhere. I tried to scream, but nothing was uttered from my throat.

"There is no one else!" A voice retorted authoritatively, obviously commanding fear and respect. Even when I was totally in the dark, blind and unable to feel, I could see, "You will be part of history, can't you see!"

"..." The dream ended almost as immediately as it began. There was no one else speaking but that loud, unyielding voice. As I regained consciousness, Zuberi was above me, shouting and shaking me, afraid that I had died on him. At first, I was almost blind and totally deaf, but eventually, I started regaining my senses.

Was it just a dream? Did it really happen to me? Or was it somebody else's dream, somebody else's experience? I could not tell at all- Not that I could make sense of anything now, especially when I was on the floor in a flash. I tried hard to recall what had happened, but nothing could connect the bright red light from the wall and me falling unconscious. The headache could have been so strong that it numbed my entire body for all I know.

"...Yan! Wak..." Zuberi was shouting and shaking me in an attempt to wake me up. It took some momentum for me to move, and before that, he began searching for a pulse and breathing frantically, "Wa... , man!"

When I did, I stopped him from doing the unnecessary, and sat up gingerly- It wasn't everyday that I collapse out of no reason. In fact, I had never blacked out before in my entire life, until today, when I broke the record by many counts, "It's okay, I'm fine..."

After helping me up, we left the room media room, and went back to looking for the survivor who managed to transmit a message to me, but just as we left the room, something came out of the omnipresent fog to haunt us again- A pair of Laughing Fools- Leathery human-like things dressed in dirty rags for clothing, with heads that convulse like a balloon floating in front of a fan. As they drew closer- I could see what they were threatening us with. One had a rusty monkey wrench while the other was slightly further away, but that small metre of a distance had hidden its weapon from us.

Someone could be on this level requiring our help, so there was no chance that we could just avoid them. We could only face them head on and in hoping against the impossible, incapacitate them and run off while we could. As if working like telepathic twins, we stood closely together so that we could fight cohesively and assist one another where necessary. Then the second Fool came closer, and with it dread- It was armed with a revolver, antiquated but deadly all the same.

As soon as I spotted the danger, the Fool raised its gun without so much as a moment's notice, but Zuberi was one step ahead of it. Before I could do anything, there was already gunshot, and he was shouting a Swahili battlecry under the bursts of fire, which I could barely hear at all. The gun-wielding Fool was only able to fire a single shot, which, due to Zuberi, had gone way out of aim with its flailing arm and hit a pillar beside me. Before long, it was collapsing under the force that the Kenyan exerts- a cue for me to go forward. Charging at the Fool with the wrench, I stuck out my bayonet and thrust it outwards just before contact- The whole knife down to the handguard, along with some of the barrel, was buried into the creature, but I knew it would take more than that to kill it.

Despite being shot numerous times, the revolver Fool was still trying to get up, and I saw Zuberi, in his battle frenzy, rushing forward just ahead of me to put a foot on its chest and fire a few more rounds at point-blank range into it to make sure it doesn't do any more harm, until his firearm began clicking furiously, protesting for the lack of ammunition.

At some point as I kept pushing the monster I was engaging backwards after the blade of my bayonet had dug deep into it, the monster fell, and as my weapon was still inside its chest, I went down with it. I fell. With the adrenaline pumping in my veins, I couldn't feel the pain that come after taking a fall, and I got back up quite easily. The creature was still, and my rifle was sticking out of its chest like a spear. Quickly, I retrieved it again and ran off, not forgetting my friend, "Zuberi, let's go!"

We began searching for an open door once again. As we were doing so, I looked back and saw- The abomination I had dispatched was starting to get up again. 'Damn it!' I cursed in my head as I tried to force every door open, attempting to escape the monsters that were after us. Even Zuberi was equally hasty in finding cover- Not surprising since he had run out of bullets, our only advantage against the demon-like things. Eventually, after kicking and banging our shoulders on a few doors that just would not open, we found one that did, and shut it tight behind us.

"Make sure it's locked, boys." A rather grim and stern voice advised us out in the darkness that blanketed half the room- It was entirely unexpected, but from it, I could surmise that we found him, "You wouldn't want them to bust in here and kill us all."

It sounded very familiar.


	13. Chapter 1, Part 12: Haskell

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 12: Haskell**

Haskell Truman, perhaps one of the most interesting immigration cases in all of Singapore to drift this way- He was a friend of mine with a rather colourful and mind-bending life story behind him, one that would almost make a best-seller book franchise.

Haskell was once an American who decided to ditch his US passport in favour of Singapore, for some reason he would not say, but what he did say made an impression on me and my small circle. In his own words, he had come from a rather eccentric family. He never got along with them, and as soon as he was able to, he escaped by joining the US army at eighteen years of age.

When that wasn't enough to ward off the eyes of his hated family, he migrated half-way across the world into this little red dot we call home. That was almost two years ago, just in time to join me as an enlistee in the army. By the time he did, he was forty-two- The oldest person I know who decided to enlist in the army. From what he said, had it not been for his experience in the US army, the SAF would have rejected him outright on basis of his age. He was, after all, once upon a time in America, a Command Sergeant Major in the US army, the equivalent of a First Warrant Officer in the Singapore Army.

It was the grandest shame I had ever seen that he had to start all over with us in BMT, a forty-two year old man becoming a recruit in the Lion City's army but he would often dismiss that shame, citing that it was better for him to be as far from his homeland as possible- Not to mention, he was promised a quick promotion scheme that was unprecedented and uniquely catered to his case. Kenny, Zuberi and I were third Sergeants. He had recently been promoted to a first Sergeant, despite spending the same amount of time in the army as us.

Haskell was what completed my circle in the army- Kenny, Zuberi, Haskell, me. Being the elder and most experienced man who had travelled the globe, suffered his share of pain, he was the natural leader amongst us. There was something about him though- He was even more tight-lipped about his life than I ever was, and everyone considers me introverted. I couldn't fault him though- He did have a rather troubled past. This paints a rather mysterious picture, but at the same time his mother could have just been a hobo, and he could have been a bastard child living in the streets of LA or something, but it never mattered- He was a good friend, and that was enough.

"Sir, it's... You!" I was surprised at who it was behind that door, enough that I had let my guard down on how we would often address him to his chagrin. We would often call him sir, as we had always thought he was a warrant officer in all but name. As my eyes began to get used to the sudden darkness, I could see that he was sitting on a wooden chair, by a table, one hand on the table while the other was hanging loosely with a cigarette between his fingers. He had a foot up on a chair; It looks like he was trying to get as comfortable as possible.

"Happy to see me?" The American said rhetorically as he was passing his cigarette from one hand to the other, before snuffing the amber out on an ashtray. Despite his casual attitude, he was well-dressed in his uniform, and as the situation warrants it, he was also in an LBV- I could see a helmet leaning against a leg of the chair he was sitting on, looking like a turtle trying to climb a tree. He was cleanly shaven and spotting a flattop, a hairstyle very common to soldiers in the US, or so he says. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see even the strands of white hair on his scalp and the slight wrinkles that were setting in on him that came with age. It was then that I noticed what was on the wooden table his arm was resting on.

"Was it you?" It was a communications set, a large device used to send and receive radio transmissions over long distances. Some designs could work up to eight kilometres of distance. The machine was a vehicular set- Which was to say it was one of those that could be mounted on a land rover or some other vehicle. It was about the size of a regular man's chest, and pure steel, so it would be impossible to carry practically.

"Never imagined I'd reach anyone." Haskell rambled on as he gingerly straightened himself up, removing his foot from the other chair. With a pregnant heave, he got up, and reached into a corner for a rifle that I never saw- It was propped up on the wall, just under the table. It was an M4A1, and it was never a standard issue in the SAF as far as I know. 'Where did he get it from?', my mind wondered in that line of thought as our leader of the circle continued muttering about something. He slung the gun sling over his neck and steadied the rifle on his arms, "So, what's your take on the situation?"

"I... Don't know where to start..." Too much was happening all at once- Imagine your world crumbling into pieces and reforming into something else entire, filled with odd beings and not petty people, mist and not rain.

"Neither do I," Seamlessly into our brief conversation, Haskell interjected, giving me a pat in the back and indirectly telling me that I was no loser for saying what I said, "Found anyone else?"

"Well, there was Kenny and Zuberi here, but... Kenny and I got separated in the parade square." Hesitantly, I reported the loss to him- Losing Kenny back then to the prowlers in the fog was not only tragic, it could only reflect badly on me, not that I was ever his big brother or anything, "I'm thinking we should look for him, and any other people along the way."

"No, it's dangerous out there." Haskell had found his seat on the table after stretching his legs, he hugged the M4 close to his body- He was saving every bit of energy he could, as if he was expecting the conversation to go on forever.

"We not leave him behind!" Zuberi, with his thick accent, rebuked the American's decision harshly. He had always been protective of his friends- I had first-hand accounts of the distance he would go to help those he could call his family. I was caught in between. I could see the logic in both choices, and it had become nothing short of a dilemma.

"It's. Dangerous. Out. There!" Perhaps upset that his command was being challenged, Haskell replied with cold fury, walking up with every step emphasising his words, pressing his face closer to Zuberi's. It was then that I found my own bearing on the shoulder of the new leader, not that I was ever one, "Three lives for one? No thanks."

Zuberi had to back down from this, and it wasn't the first time he had to. Despite being hot-headed and dedicated to his own ideals, he had his own weaknesses, which was also his strength. Friends. He protects them, but he listens to them as well, especially when he couldn't think of any more chips to back his arguments up- And he isn't a likely candidate for debating competitions. There was a brief moment of silence as we contemplated about the situation, and leaving a friend behind.

"Well, the plan was to look for anyone else here and leave." I had to break the silence somehow, it seemed more unnerving than what I saw so far, as if the darkness had seeped into all of us. There was always comfort in talking, but only when there were people I knew well involved. It was only a shame that they were never there most of the time.

"Then let's go." Firm and resolute without the need to shout or threaten, the first sergeant took charge of us and opened the door to the outside world without pause or warning us of his impending actions. Readying his rifle, with skills unmatched, he swept the corridor, right first then left, only to find one Laughing Fool dead on the floor with its revolver, and the other was nowhere to be found. Following him, we could not do the same, as my SAR-21 was in no shape to fire while Zuberi had no ammunition to discharge rounds with. Seizing the opportunity, I fell on the bloody revolver still in the creature's hand, but the moment I took it for my own, it began bending and twisting on its own accord, becoming unusable- The barrel had became a slight crescent, to say the least, "Stop wasting time, let's move!"

It took us only a fraction of the time I used to reach the room Haskell was in. There was no darkness, no fences and fallen bridges to block the way to our destination. There were no mechanisms to gates that never existed for us to figure out. Within a few minutes, we had cleared the HQ building. Out of instinct, I turned my head to regard the shameful handiwork I did to get into the HQ building, hoping that it was invisible to the rest- It was, and not just to them. The flags were missing where they were supposed to be flapping in the high wind, two of them upside-down and the Singapore flag proudly right side-up. 'Perhaps they were taken down when the PA sounded,' I thought, by who I would never know. As we were making our way to the main gates of the camp, I had to keep a check on his reliability as the pointman, "Have you seen the monsters, sir?"

"Many, yes." There wasn't much to it. It was all I needed to know; all I needed to know that we were in capable hands, that he won't just freeze up and throw us to the dogs if any jumps out of the fog. The foreigner had always been a trustworthy guy, from our time in basic training up till now- The only bad moments coming from him was his occasional tendency press us down with the authority of his experience in the military world and age, whenever he 'needs' to, such as in field training, such as marching to and from one point to another (he was almost always called upon to march us), such as now. Though, sometimes, thinking about it, perhaps it was for the best. For one, the burden of leading men would not fall on me or the others most of the time.

There was an odd silence throughout our journey out of camp, as if the nightmares that were plaguing us were knowingly shying away from our group at the moment. There was the occasional static coming from my Roan walkie talkie, but there nothing came charging out of the shadows. Sometimes, I would wonder if I was becoming superstitious after all, believing that my radio was a radar for detecting the creatures roaming about. There was never a basis for that, not that there was ever any basis for everything now...

The parade square was surrounded by four barracks, Alpha, where I had searched to find Kenny, Bravo, the company I was posted to, as well as the Charlie and Delta company barracks, which I couldn't risk exploring. The headquarters of our unit stood before the huge open space- On a normal day, it would have casted a shadow on a quarter chunk of the parade square. The main entrance into the camp flanks the right of the parade square, connected by a half mile road with several junctions leading to the other parts of the camp. There were more company barracks, cookhouses, messes and training areas, but to go through them in current circumstances could never go well, what with the innumerable monsters outside that seem to thrive in the otherworldly mist.

Eventually, with Haskell rallying us into a jog, we were able to reach the two-storied guardhouse that protects the main entrance gates. It would be another hundred metres and we would have cleared the larger outer gates leading into camp. Haskell however, decides that it wouldn't be so easy, and believed that an ambush was waiting for us, and I had to agree. Upon nearing the gate by the guardhouse, I could faintly see blood trails leading towards the outer gates, an ominous sign of danger up ahead. I had no reason to disagree this time, and the guardhouse was something of a boon, "We should spend some time here..."

"Yes, yes, there be weapons inside," Zuberi added. We all knew what a guardhouse had in store for its occupants. For it to function as the central staging point for the security of the camp, it must have weapons and even the recently elusive ammunitions- Which we need, as our own pool was quickly dwindling in size. Not to mention, there could be other items to aid us as well- First-aid boxes for one. I hadn't forgotten the last time I was shot, only to miraculously recover from a wound that I could easily bleed to death from.

"We need to plan our advancement..." Haskell added in a low voice- He was looking at something on the ground as we neared the door of the guardhouse. It was another blood trail leading into the outpost. I could see it, and so did Zuberi- We were either all insane, or in danger. I was thinking of Kenny- It was entirely plausible for him to retreat into the guardhouse. The blood could be his as well, I shuddered as I thought- He could have been chased into the building, and his flight could have taken its toll. The old man signalled for us to stay close before he kicked the door open, and charged to the right of the room. The left leads only to a wall. We followed him, and I was waving my rifle at the darkness, preparing myself for anything that would rush out of it.

It was quiet inside, and dark. The blinds for all the windows were drawn, except for the security room, where people were checked and given security passes. As I was somehow the only soldier with a flashlight, I took the lead, and found the blood trail was snaking deep into the guardhouse. We started out in the preparation room, which was linked to the security room, and they were really one and the same. As I had done guard duty before, I knew where it was leading us into. Whatever was inside could either be hiding in the armoury or the commander's quarters.

There was crying. It wasn't apparent at first, but as I started crossing the preparation room, I started hearing this sobbing. Flanking a panel of nine camera monitoring screens filled with nothing but empty static, I kept my rifle raised ahead of me, keeping in mind that anything could happen. Haskell's rifle was just over my shoulder, and could discharge at any moment should it come to that- I've heard the safety flipped off.

Turning sharply and quickly into a corridor, I tried to surprise any enemies that may be lurking in it, but it was deserted all the same. The cries were becoming louder- It sounded male. Realising that the lights in both the commander's quarters and armoury was on, I switched my flashlight off for the sake of cover and concealment- If I need to fight, I need the advantage of a first action. The closest room was the quarters- The door, closed, but there was light coming from the slit below. Squinting my eyes hard, I turned the door knob silently, slightly. It was in working condition. Haskell gave me a nudge, and I knew what he meant. We were going to storm the room- The cries sounded like it was coming from there. The nudge was meant for me to flank the door from the other wide while he and Zuberi would stay on the side nearer to the prep room. 'Three... Two... One' Haskell signalled to me in simple sign language before busting the door open with a powerful kick. Together, we rushed in within the span of a second, fanning out into the corners of the room...


	14. Chapter 1, Part 13: Puppet

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Chapter 1, Part 13: Puppet**

"Kenny?" I gasped in horror at the sight before my eyes. In a rare well-lit room that was the commander's quarters, Kenny was kneeling, nearly lifelessly, with blood pooling under him- His trousers were drenched, turning brownish from multi-shaded green. Before him was a dead body, its features unseen as Kenny was blocking my view. It was half lying on the commander's bed, staining it with the same crimson liquid that pointed us in the right direction. I could only fear the worse. Undesirable thoughts entered my mind- Thoughts that point to the fact that he could be gravely injured, "Are you... Alright?"

I was afraid to even ask; for fear that what I worry about would come true. The only comfort I could draw from this was that he was at least still breathing- If he could still cry and shiver with every tear that drops, then he should still be alive, "Kenny?"

With an awkward pause, he got up and turned around, further spreading the blood all over the place. It was then that I found out where the blood was coming from. It wasn't from him- It came from the dead body. As Kenny stood up, I caught a glimpse of the mutilation rendered upon it. There was a hole where its mug was. My guess was it had been shot in the head, and somehow, most of it had imploded. It was then that I realised, based on the appearance of the body, that Kenny had killed another monster that most closely resembled a human being, a Laughing Fool. So, Kenny was crying over a dead monster?

"I, I'm sorry..." He seemed so full of grief- Worst case scenario was that he seemed shocked and in denial of the whole situation. Who wouldn't be? After all, everything seemed normal the previous day, with us practicing our drills for a COC parade as a new Commanding Officer takes his office in our unit. Everyone was there, and there wasn't even a single sign of the apocalypse on our doorsteps. It was all too sudden, the out-of-place fog, the aberrations that were stalking us, the changing of the world... "I... I'm just..."

"Pull yourself together!" Haskell rushed to the front, coming face-to-face with Kenny. It was then that I decided that it was best to leave it up to our leader. I knew immediately that someone had to act as the eyes and ears of the group- So, shifting to the back of the row and nudging Zuberi up, I leaned against the frame of the door, watching the corridor we were in. It was then that I remembered the armoury- It was a gold mine just waiting to be dug up, "What happened?"

"Hask- S... Sir?" Kenny stuttered as he was caught between his sobs and being surprised at seeing another living, breathing man. The shock therapy seemed to have worked very well in getting him together. As he was beginning to calm down and start explaining, I slipped back into the gloomy corridor with the purpose of exploring the armoury. Switching my flashlight back on, I paid little heed to caution as anything that was hiding should have attacked up by now. A bare few metres away, I reached the armoury without incident and tried the heavy steel doors- Which was surprisingly ajar and open. Security where doors were concerned seemed to have reversed its priority when the world changed, "I... I guess I just couldn't stand it..."

"Stand what?" Haskell sounded a little more vicious than he was concerned. Although he was speaking in a low, caring tone, he still came across as rough due to his seasoned voice and appearance- I could imagine his looks from where I was. Opening the heavy armoury doors, I could already dream even in my wakeful state the security granted to us in the form of additional arms and ammunition. We would survive better with richer equipment. As the door swung open, the flashlight on my chest lit up the darkened room, only to reveal nothing. The gun racks were empty, the chains that prevents theft strewn about haphazardly on the floor. Ammunition boxes were thrown about as if a poltergeist was in the room, but nothing was spilled. The field tables deployed at the back of the room had nothing and... Taking a second look before dismissing the armoury, I noticed something grey and bronze-colored on the green-hued field tables.

"This monster... Came out of nowhere... T-tried to kill me..." Kenny went on to explain, making about as much sense as a flying train, and as he was doing so, I squinted my eyes and walked towards the object. At first, it seemed hard to distinguish what it was, but as I got closer I realised what it was. The piece of metal was the only thing separating a working rifle and a fancy spear. It was the boltcarrier for a SAR21. As if ravenous from starvation, I rushed up to it to inspect the boltcarrier, and found that the parts that were supposed to be inside were there. It was a compete boltcarrier, "I... I shot it... Ran out of bullets..."

"I... I couldn't stand it! This world has gone nuts!" Kenny exclaimed in anguish all of a sudden. There was something in him, something that wanted to claw its way up his throat, but he couldn't release it. He was never an articulate person- expression was never his forte. Breaking my rifle, I fitted the device into the hollow bowels of the firearm and reassembled the gun. It felt heavier again- complete and powerful. It was all for nothing however, as there was no 5.56mm rounds. It was completely useless without a magazine and bullets, "We'll die like this!"

"Listen here." Haskell commanded frankly, and almost immediately, Kenny stopped sniffing and panicking- The American had that aura of attention, something which I was used to. Whether it was in a forest during outfield training, or in a range, or when we were doing our job leading men, he was always the one who lead us from the start to the end- It wasn't the officers and warrant officers who did it. Haskell was always on the ground with us, "We won't die. We are four now."

After Kenny was brought back on his feet, we returned to the preparation room- It was an appropriate place for us to plan ahead, get our bearings right. Being the prime paranoid amongst us, Haskell suspects, no, believes that the outer gate of the complex would be swarming with those strange beings on ambush, his reasoning however, was unclear- He never made it a point to explain things. The grand strategy was extreme caution- We would keep a low profile by keeping low to the ground as we make a break for the gate. Each man would watch each other's blind side for anything unusual.

"Kenny... I found this back in headquarters. Here." At the tail end of our conference, I undid the Velcro sealing one of my magazine pockets; I took out that box of bullets I found back in the offices in HQ. After having one last look at it, I realised that it holds some fifty 9mm bullets per box- That was the quantity, or at least, that was what was said on the box. It felt much lighter than fifty. Opening the cardboard lid, I realised that fifteen was all that was left. Handing over the previous cylinders to Kenny, I double-checked my magazine pouch for any fallen bullets. There was none.

"Hey, what do you know?" Just as I was frantically digging into my pouch, I was surprised at what Kenny was holding out for me in exchange. It was a SAR21 magazine, with a few bullets inside that could be seen as the construct of the magazine was transparent for easy accessibility, "I've got something for you too. I found this... While I was hiding from those... Freaks of nature." It felt like Christmas- If only the fog was snow and the strange things out there, children singing Christmas carols.

Before executing our gambit for freedom, we had decided to tear the place apart in search of any additional materials we could use. As the others scrambled to the other corners of the guardhouse, I searched the prep room to find one of those security shields meant for either riot control or unarmed personnel during patrols. It was laid against the huge panel of monitors. Rectangular, large and transparent, it was an ideal choice. Picking it up, I discovered that it was hiding some words etched into the wall all along- It was covered by a black strip that ran across the middle of the shield, where the 'security' word was laid across:

_Face thy fears,_

_Conquer them._

_Open thy wounds,_

_Bleed the poison._

The words were burned into my eyes, like the product of a mental fire brand, and as they did, I retreated away from the strange cursive, burning words- My head began aching again, as if it hadn't been abused enough by the wide world. My friends must have heard my pained yelping, as they were quickly coming back, filing from the armoury and quarters to check on me. Recovering as quickly as I could, in other words trying to act as normal as I could without revealing the throbbing, tear-jerking pain in my head- My companions were all battle-ready with the muzzle of their steel wands raised as if expecting to see my mangled corpse and our stalkers about, "It's alright, it's okay! I guess this is for you, Kenny..."

Reassuring them, I handed over the shield to Kenny- He was the only one among us who could carry a shield in any capacity, seeing that he was the only soldier with a weapon the size of his hand. The guardhouse was surprisingly emptied of material assistance, as no one was about to turn up with anything but air and a disappointed look on their face. Undeterred, Haskell decided to whip us up for our escape- It was totally unnecessary, as we were put between death and salvation, our determination etched up from our already dogged attitude. It wasn't something to be annoyed with however, "The plan is simple: we sneak out. We don't need anything more than our legs, now lets move."

As our champion, the old war veteran took the lead, opening the door back into the dangers of our remodelled world. After warming up with a jog with us following in single file, he broke into a silent, tactical run, and we did the same, with difficulty catching up- Especially where myself was concerned, being the least fit and combat-oriented of the four of us. It was a hundred metre trip, not far and not more dangerous than what we had experienced so far, but the inhuman moans and growls in the distance were beginning to challenge that belief. The silhouette of one of them convinced me to redouble my pace as I was falling behind, but somehow, we were successful so far at escaping their attention, and soon it disappeared under the veil of the white curtains.

The road out to the outer gates were familiar to me, and probably more so to the rest of my squad- I could tell that we were almost there, when the massive multi-lane vehicle stopping and inspection kiosk flanked us. Hope swelled in me as I panted exhaustively- We were after all, going to make it out, but that hope was extinguished prematurely like a newly started blaze when we discovered, to our horror, that the outer gates were closed off, and as we got closer, the shadow of a man was at its lid, trying to force the gates open- From its posture and shape, I was able to tell that it was more human than everything else save my friends so far. Haskell could identify him faster, "Identify yourself!"

Stopping what he was doing, the shadow froze for a dramatic moment, before turning around slowly as if expecting to be fired upon, with his hands up. Quickly, walking up to him, I realised that he was a warrant officer in formal dressing- Somehow, he seemed familiar, though the more I thought about it, the more my head began to feel like it took a beating from the butt of a steel-cast rifle, "Who are you..?"

There was a look of surprise on his face as he began eyeing me suspiciously, for some reason. He was a man of Indian nationality, slightly taller than I was, better built. Slight wrinkles and crow's feet were carved into his identity by years of hardship, marking his age to be past his prime. Numerous badges adorned the pride that was his uniform, indicating achievements beyond my abilities, those that I never wanted anyway. After sizing me up, he began speaking up in a harsh and unforgiving tone, "What? You don't remember me!"

"I was your Sergeant Major in BMT! You-" Before he could go on, Haskell was playing his part as a friend by interrupting him.

"Sir, what are you doing here?" Shifting his eyes away from me to the American, the Sergeant Major started a staring competition for a second there with my old friend, as if he had wronged him in a thousand ways.

"I early for the parade rehearsal, so I took a nap at the guardroom. Everything became... This way when I woke up." In his thick Tamil accent, my supposed Sergeant Major explained himself, not that it helped me at all in recognising him- I remembered my days in basic training. It was a long-drawn back-breaking affair, but it was also fulfilling, especially considering that I met the friends who would accompany me all the way through my days in the army I so despised, "Look, we need to get out of here, something's stal-"

He was sharply interrupted by a gunshot that came out of nowhere and then was that sickening gurgling sound. I was oblivious at first to where it was coming from, but it became clear quickly that it was from closeby. Turning around, I realised that the Indian Sergeant Major had been shot in the throat, and he was clutching it, trying to close the hole in desperation, to stem the crimson tide, but it was all useless. Quickly, we dropped to prone position, forming a semi-circle around our downed superior. In the distance, there was that same shadow again with its smoking SAR21, the same kind I used. It was no doubt the culprit. Before anyone could get off a shot however, it faded away before I could even train my scope on him.

"He's dead!" Haskell yelled as if betrayed by someone treacherous- He was examining the Sergeant Major, but he had stopped breathing long ago, after struggling briefly. I knew, I saw him at the corner of my eyes, struggling briefly in his death throes before giving up the fight. Somehow, something else swelled in me, something else but grief, yet there was sadness- I never liked death and all the other negativities in life. Though, sometimes, it felt as if death was in the end the ultimate answer to all the other negativities in life, it felt like a friend... "Stay alert! Keep your guns up!"

"Up I said! Kenny!" Our American friend bellowed as Kenny lowered his pistol for a second while he was adjusting his posture- He was having difficulty with the shield, but eventually, he was able to find a rather creative way to stay down comfortably. With his left arm strapped with the shield, he could only support his body by hoisting it up with his left elbow- With his shield, he could form a protective barrier that way. His right arm was supporting his body with the whole forearm flat on the ground, as it would be if a person goes prone unarmed. Responding to our commander's command, slipped his arm under his shield and aimed it into the fog.

For a minute or two, there was nothing- I had already known that the same shadow that had been firing at me ever since earlier this morning had gone away into hiding again. It was stalking us, terrorizing us at every opportunity that presents itself. We were distracted, and we paid the price for it.

For a minute or two, there was nothing, then something. The PA system from afar sounded again- The far-off flags rose, and the world began changing once again. The streets became cracked, and the grasses withered. The trees were losing their hair, growing snarling faces as they were cracking and turning into charcoal. The guardhouse became a fortress of torn and twisted metal. Looking back briefly from my prone position, I noticed barbed wires growing around the gate, hugging it tightly, like vicious, aggressive vines- We were trapped, so close to salvation but sent backwards a thousand steps. The fog was overturned into darkness- Even my flashlight was awed by the overwhelming blackness- It couldn't shine past ten metres.

For a minute or two, I expected a squad of abominations to come at us, to match our own squad, but none came, other than a shadow behind me. Turning to look back, I screamed. Before I knew what happened, we were all swept aside like bugs before a broom. I saw Zuberi hitting the chain-link fence connecting to the gates hard- His head had connected with a metal beam holding up the wires. Haskell landed on his head a few metres away, and ceased moving. Kenny fell on his knees, and was screaming in agony. After flying for a second, I was rolling like a barrel for a few metres, and the cracked road was taking every opportunity to inflict cuts upon me. As I came to a stop, I caught a glimpse of Zuberi stirring for a moment, before lying still. Before I could decide where he was dead or unconscious, I saw what was it that devastated our team.

The massive creature was once the warrant officer who claimed to be my Sergeant Major- I know, because there were still traces of his sleeves wrapped tightly around the monster's wrists. The thing was slightly smaller than an elephant, but much shorter, its chest hugging the floor. It was standing on all fours, its elbows and knees forming the highest points of its body, way above the back, with its knees inverted much like a Boltcarrier or Wild One's. Cancel that, its head was the highest point of its body- Its neck was elongated and thin compared to the muscled limps, and rose high above like a nightmarish guard tower.

Then there were those concertina wires- Those were the worse parts. Coming from the darkness above, the concertina wires were wound around every joint of the creature and the top of its neck, suspending it from the great darkness above, like some devil's puppet, or a dark God's puppet. Despite the wires moving it like a puppet, it appeared to have a life of its own, especially when it screamed at me sickeningly. With its large, clawed hands, it could have killed me in one swipe- It remains to be seen if it had killed all my friends.

As I was looking on in awe and shock, the Puppet's second scream shook me awake, and with barely functioning limbs, I got up, and held my newly completed SAR21 up. The monstrous thing was too large for me to miss even a single shot, so I went ahead and discharged a single round to the base of its neck as it was slowly coming closer at me. Needless to say, blood was spilled, but the Puppet hardly flinched at all, as if it had hit a pile of sandbags rather than meat.

Kenny was starting to fire off shots as well- He had more chances than I had. Remembering what I saw in the magazine back in the guardhouse, I realised that my chances were very limited. It was standard for soldiers on guard duty to be issued one empty magazine and one magazine with just five live rounds- I had just used one, and I had four tries left.

The rules of war was changed. We were always taught to shoot the largest centre of mass- the torso, but it didn't work. Kenny had let off a few rounds, peppering the monster from the side of its stomach, but it was shrugging them off like paper balls. The next best target according to doctrine and common sense was the head, so I went for it. As the creature started coming at me as I was backing away, it lowered its head down, and screamed at me. It was the perfect opportunity.

Aiming through the scope mounted on my rifle, syncing the movement of my hands to the unnatural swaying of its head, with a moment's hesitation, I held my breath and let off a shot, only to miss- I was distracted, distracted by the grotesque sight before me, distracted by how the face plastered on the expanded skull of the Puppet still resembled the Indian Sergeant Major's face, it was only pale like the rest of the monster for some reason- The loss of blood?

Unable to accept my mistake, I fired a shot- And against all hopes lost, it connected, and there was blood, but no reaction to pain. Lunging forward, the Puppet gave me a low swipe, knocking me off my feet, sending me twirling, but then something else happened as I saw recovering from the massive pain in my legs. The Puppet fell as well. Taking the chance, I rolled aside and got up, against the moaning pain of my legs, and saw what happened- The cable holding up one of its inverted legs had snapped.

"Aim for the wires!" Kenny shouted from where he was still lying down, incapacitated. The Puppet was huge, and powerful, but it still had a weakness after all- My two remaining bullets felt plenty again all of a sudden. As a chasm had opened up behind me when the world had gone to hell, I could only run past the monster was it was getting up again. Soon, it was back to chasing after me, but with a weak and quivering leg. From a far off vantage point, I started aiming at it again, this time at the wires- Being thick and silver, they were easy to spot, and pick off. Deftly, I fired off another shot, severing the metal cord holding up its left arm, but the creature did not fall like it did- It was expecting it, but its left arm began struggling to support its massive form all the same.

It was getting closer, and with it being active, I couldn't hazard another trip around it- My legs were only bruised from its last attack. The next would probably shatter my bones if I wasn't careful. Ten metres, eight, six. It got closer, but Kenny was a helpful friend- Firing off another series of pistol shots, he was able to sever the wire holding up the elbow of its right arm. There was only two more, one for its right leg and another for its head. Raising my rifle, I aimed at the noose around its neck, but the bloody flesh that was in my scope quickly disappeared. As I was searching for my target in the scope, I was knocked back by something hard, something that reminded me of a wrecking ball. It was when I was flying back that I saw that Puppet had wound up its neck and punched me with the top of its skull.

My whole body was slammed into the barbed wire covered gates. Sharp metal had dug into my skin at numerous places. Had it not been for my LBV, my back would have been covered with holes, though it didn't protect my arms and legs. Falling back from the gate, the only thing stopping me from giving in was my adrenaline-assisted will to live. As I was recovering, the creature, with a violently trembling arm, lifted its huge hands up, about to flatten me with it. Before it happens, I rolled aside, and the ground quaked with the force.

I could barely move my legs- The pain from the barbed wires was intense despite the adrenaline rush. Knowing that I would be killed if I wait any longer, I simply raised my rifle from my lying down position and fired at the cable holding its head up. It was a Deus Ex Machina. I was never a marksman, far from it, and yet, with a loud 'Twang', the cable was severed, and like an umbilical cord, the connection between the Puppet and life (if you could call it that) was gone. The towering neck and head that had previously pulled a wrecking ball on me fell upon the top of the gates, and there was a loud, bony snap when it happened.

There was still one concertina wire from the dark heavens above, but it was useless being solitary- Not that it would matter, as it was quickly blasted into two by Haskell, who just woke up, for good measure.

Just as the world stopped shaking from the gait of the Puppet, the PA system started sounding again- The Puppet began vaporising, fading into nothingness. The road seems to be repairing itself, and the grasses and trees started returning to life as if it was spring. The guardhouse's steel walls was covered up by climbing concrete and most importantly, the otherworldly night gave way to the morning that was meant to be there. There was no fog. No fog at all. Not even in the distance. The barbed wires holding down the gates receded from whence they came, and the gates opened themselves, revealing the world beyond the camp.

Turning to my friends, I helped Kenny to his feet- He could barely walk, but after probing his knees a little based on his instructions, I could safely say that nothing was broken. Haskell, on the other hand, despite the bleeding in his head, rushed to Zuberi side, thinking he was dead, but after slapping him a few times in the face, he was soon standing on his own two feet.

We were all battered. I had bruises and punctures all over me, but something in me blossomed, something amounting to realisation and enlightenment, something I hadn't felt for a long, long time. Limping together, I couldn't help but break into a run out of the camp before anything happens, and my friends were forced to keep up with my pace.


	15. Intermission 1, Part 1: The Station

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Intermission 1, Part 1: The Station**

The day was newly born, with the sun in one visible corner of the sky, yet the air was cooling. It was just what I needed, after sweating and bleeding for hours. None of us had any working watches or handphones with us, so we were unable to tell the time, but it looked like it was a little after seven into the dawn. To be able to see the sky and sun was a great relief, and it was an even greater relief to be able to see more than a hundred metres down the road, realising that the same creatures that had been preying on us were nowhere to be found. They had receded with the fog in a tick, as if they were part of it.

The camp was linked to the rest of the world via a road, and on the opposite side of the graphite river was a forested area- Most were either a reservation or army training area, and it was no exception. Nonetheless, I had no intention of entering it. Following the road, there was something else, something entirely displaced- The silence. The road was normally busy, even at seven in the morning as it would be rush hour. Now, it was completely devoid of any vehicle and people.

It would have been a long track either way, but between the left and the right, the former was the lesser of two evils. Walking left of the camp would lead us to Pasir Ris Police Station, a few kilometres away, while turning right from the camp would take us to East Coast Police Post, and if estimation was correct, it would be a dozen kilometres through highways and estates before we could reach it.

For a kilometre, in nearly full gear, I jogged towards my destination, but as I grew tired, I stopped at a bus stop, resting for ten minutes or so, but no bus came when they were supposed to. Having taken the bus service here a few times after being posted in recently, I knew exactly how frequent the buses would arrive. The road had died. It was unheard of- As if the five million people in Singapore had fled to the Malayan Peninsula to the north.

With the strength I bore in the heat of battle lost to the chilly winds, I could feel my every muscle aching as I sat stiff on the benches under the shelter of the bus stop, the numerous wounds on my body crying out for me to stop, but I knew I had to move on. For some strange, unidentifiable reason, I knew I had to. Deep down in my heart, something was pushing me to do it, urging me on as if my life depends on it.

It was another ten minutes before we reached a local neighbourhood, and the local police station. The sun was shining brightly all the same, a cheerful morning set, but there was no one to enjoy the ideal weather. The police station was surprisingly empty, the windows all boarded up- Something about it seemed familiar, the way it seemed to have degraded somewhat from the way I had remembered it. Turning to view the entire neighbourhood of HDB flats (apartment buildings, in other words), there was something about them as well... In the distance, there was haze, probably from the air pollution resulting from Indonesia slashing and burning forests to make way for farming.

"We should check the Pasir Ris MRT station, it should be crowded by now." Kenny suggested, and we knew we had to agree, where else could there be people if not the police station nor the roadside? For all I knew, the police station had closed down a few days back without us knowing it, for the purpose of renovation or relocation or some other reasons we were not meant to know.

I wasted no time- The MRT station was just down the road, across a city block. It was funny, how the four of us were running around, breaking half the laws of Singapore. Some of us were not in proper uniform- Zuberi for one only had a training singlet for a top. Some of us were wearing LBVs out in the public. We were all armed and jaywalking. There was just no one to see it- How on Earth did everyone disappear, I'll never know.

The train station came within sight after some hard work against gravity and exhaustion- It was a magnificent thing, towering over us with the actual platform above, linked to raised train tracks on either ends several storeys high. As the train station came closer within our reach, the haze that was found amidst the sky-reaching HDB flats started creeping towards me, threatening to slowly corner and drown us in its smog. By the time I set a foot on the doorsteps of the station, it became how it was before the outer gates of the camp was passed- the haze had become an impenetrable mist, and the silence... Ominous sounds that were unheard of before, sounds that expresses a delight for the flesh, carnal hunger.

Taking shelter on the massive, open-aired concourse level of the train station, I wasted no time to cross the turnstiles into the inner sanctum of the train station- Somehow, it felt free of blood and tension. At first, I was expecting the turnstile to be unrelenting in its pursuit to gain gold for its master, that I would have to hop over the low walls, but the turnstiles were opened, their teeth sucked back, as if they were inviting us in, as if they were expecting us.

Accepting the suspicious invitation, I went in and investigated my surroundings- The concourse was similarly deserted, like the rest of the neighbourhood. There was no sign of an island-wide disaster that never came, no sign of any struggle or rush. The only clue pushing us on was a trail of bloody footsteps, the shoe size that of a child, leading to one of the two escalators. A thousand thoughts raced through my mind- 'Could it be another person?', 'Is it one of those things?', 'Who could it be?', 'Why is a child here?'

There was only one way to find out, but before that train of thought could be boarded, a shrill cry echoed in the large hall of the concourse, and we were suddenly forced into a tight-knitted cigar formation- We were forming an oval, to cover our position from all angles, and we were all high-kneeling, to keep a low profile in case one of those things with a rifle covered in tendrils come.

Another shrill cry sounded from an unknown angle- The echoes were making it omnipresent. Tightening my grip on my rifle as I pointed it forward, I realised how hopeless it was, at least for me- I had all but emptied my weapon in the last fight, that fight with the horrible puppet-like behemoth born from the dead Sergeant Major. We were all wounded and not at our best- I was still bleeding at multiple places where the spines of the barbed wires I was flung into had dug into my skin. I could tell that my companions were cringing from pain that went unexplained.

It was then that it happened- Something fell into the epicentre of our supposedly infallible defensive formation, throwing us all to the ground. It all happened too fast, me rolling over, the gunshots, and the calls to retreat upwards. I couldn't tell who was hollering in surprise and fear- whether it was me or one of the guys. It could be all of us. As I ascended, more gunshots and screams ensued- My vision was a blur as I raced up the metal steps. I couldn't see the corners of my eyes- I couldn't tell who was slashed by the thing that fell from the ceiling. The flash of the blades that thing was carrying and the droplets of blood in mid-air were all that was apparent.

The escalator I climbed was alive and droning away as it aided us in our bid for an escape against the powerful, unseen force- It was much slower than how it usually was however, as if it was a hesitant participant in our battle, as if it wanted us as dead as its metal chains. The moving staircase was several storeys high, a direct bridge to the platform above, and a difficult-to-climb one as well, especially when I was in full gear and injured all over.

Mid-way, as I looked back, I realised Haskell was the last man of our human caterpillar- And he was climbing backwards, firing at the thing with his M4A1 that I could see more clearly now that I had calmed slightly. It was a Wild One, one that was slightly larger, better built, which could explain how it was on the ceiling to begin with. It was darker, like a murderous shadow that rivals the notoriety of Jack the Ripper.

I was the head of the caterpillar, and a poor leader at that. I was dead exhausted, injured, and I was slowing down. Zuberi, the soldier directly behind me, had to egg me on all the time, and push me occasionally to disallow me from succumbing to my weakness. As I reached the top, like desperate souls straight from the rusted ruins of the purgatory ascending a million staircases to the gates of heaven, I fell hard on the metal flooring of the escalator landing- Zuberi had to pull me to my feet as my legs gave up the fight.

The day appeared brighter as we made it to the top, as if we had indeed reached heaven, but the continued gunshots brought me back down to Earth. Looking back, through hot sweat and dry eyes, I realised that we were getting hunted down by more than one Wild Ones, the rest were however, the original types. It was beyond what my squad could handle- We had to evacuate, and thankfully, there were trains on either sides of the platform, though I never knew this particular station to have tracks on both sides from the many times I travelled to and from it. What intrigued me for one combat tick was how the trains were just there, as if they were abandoned by their operators.

"Get in the train! Move!" Haskell bellowed over his gunshots, and we started bolting down the platform- The doors were all but closed, strangely. Normally, they would all be open whenever the MRT trains were parked in the station. In the distance, a single door was wide open at the back of the train, however- A ticket out of this mess.

It was a good thirty meters away, but it may well be a thousand- The suppression fire from my friends weren't holding back the beasts much- four typical Wild Ones in total had appeared to replace the big one that Haskell had put down from what I could tell by the brief moment I saw it fell.

Twenty meters- We were sprinting towards that gateway to paradise as if hell was at our heels. Haskell was slowing down to take shots at the bayonet-wielding split-heads, but the reverse-bodied man-things weren't deterred.

Ten meters- The dreaded click sounded from Haskell's firearm, and Kenny had to fall behind to assist him. As the only ones without ammunition, me and Zuberi were retreating fully to safety- We had little opportunity to look back. After the longest few seconds had come to pass, I made it in with Zuberi yelling, "I go help!"

I was no hero, but it was far out of my virtues for me to abandon my friends- Stepping out, I was forced back as the sliding doors of the train slid shut before me without warning, the loud, abnormal bang sternly cautioning me that I would have lost an arm had I doggedly tried its patience. Zuberi, realising that he and the rest were stuck outside the train, returned to bang his fists at the glass. At first, I had thought my friendship with my circle had ended here with him thinking I had betrayed them to the monsters, but then he was grabbing my attention, asking for me to assist in opening the door.

We couldn't get very far, even when we were forcing it open from both sides. A few centimetres was the best fruit of efforts before the train started moving, seemingly on its own, forcing us to abandon this pursuit. Removing my hands, the doors slammed shut again. Having reached the door, Haskell and Kenny could only watch as the train with me inside was leaving them behind- There was nothing any of us could have done. I could only bang and scream at the murderous doors by this point in time. As the train screened past the platform my friends were in, I counted eight Wild Ones, as if they had multiplied themselves by two like bacteria. Most were holding their signature weapons, the twin bayonets, while some were armed with improvised weapons like a lead pipe. I could only assume the worse, that my circle of friends was lost to ill, evil fate.

My legs felt weak, my body numb. Of all the suffering I had endured, to lose my companions were the biggest blow. Sliding down against a glass panel flanking a long row of seats as my legs lost their control to grief, my buttocks eventually hit the floor with a resounding thud, and I sat there for quite a while, as I clutched my head- I could feel it cracking up, expanding, ready to implode at any moment from the pain I was feeling. I sat there for quite a while, contemplating the fate of my friends, without any other care in the world left. For the first time since I woke up to a world of terror, I cried.


	16. Intermission 1, Part 2: The Train

**Silent Hill: Transcendence**

**Intermission 1, Part 2: The Train**

The train continued on with reckless abandon, unjust and cruel, turning a blind eye to the fate of my friends. It sped down the tracks as it did when things were normal. I was drowning in sorrow for my loss, I must have cried for some ten minutes, but in the end, I knew I had to move on- It was what they would have wanted me to do. They wouldn't want the entire team to go down the drain, as long as one of us was alive, the team was still there in spirit.

It was a tough decision to make- The decision to stand up again, and just keep going. In a way, it was what I had been doing for the past twenty years, and my legs were beginning to feel the weight of those twenty years, as if they had been shackled to a pair of wrecking balls. Life had never really been fair to me, though the more I think about it, the sharper the sudden pain in my head grew, so I turned my attention to the predicament at hand.

Shortly after I started paying attention to my surroundings again, the train entered a tunnel that I never remembered, passing through thick fog into the dark abyss in the tunnel. The lights built into the ceiling weren't switched on, other than the ones directly above me. Deep inside, I knew something was about to hit the fan, again.

Looking at the map above the door I entered through, the door that separated me from the rest of my squad, I noticed from the blipping LED lights that the train had yet to clear the next station from Pasir Ris- Strange, considering that the next tunnel wasn't until a few stations later. As I behold in wonder of the strange circumstances, a distant noise of shattering glass alerted my inner fighting spirit once again. Torn away from my admittedly girlish tears, I was stuck between letting whatever made that noise come to me and investigating whatever it was- Remembering that I was in the tail-end of the train, I decided that it wouldn't be wise to corner myself considering that everything I had seen so far could easily outmatch me, had it not been for my good pals, and now, I am alone.

The drowning darkness had accompanied the train into the tunnel- Again, my flashlight was barely holding up against the forces of blackness. As I cautiously moved down the train, I was careful not to lose my balance as the train rumbles on. The next carriage held nothing- It was just an ordinary part of the train without the lights on. Still, that was enough to pull any sense of normalcy away from me- Never in my life was I ever in an MRT train with the lights shut off.

As I moved further down, there was something else. The trash in the carriages were beginning to build up, as if the more I go down the middle of the train, the more unruly the citizens occupying the carriage before me gets. The temperature rose with every step I took, from a comfortable twenty degrees (about there) onwards, until it was enough for a bead of sweat to roll down my forehead, as I concentrated on what was ahead of me.

Another carriage down, and I realised something else- The map had changed from one that encompasses the entire island of Singapore and all the station in it, to one abstract picture depicting Pasir Ris station, and a line representing the tracks towards the next station, but there was no other station- The green line faded away to the light green background at the opposite end of the new map. For some reason, I felt like it had force-fed sheer terror into me- It led me to a wild delusion that the train was just going to fall off somewhere along the line, as silly and impossible as it sounds.

Steeling myself a little by mocking yours truly with some lame jokes to keep myself going attached to the end, I started searching my surroundings again. At the beginning, there was nothing. Down the train, there was trash. Here, there was even more, and the interior of the vehicle was beginning to degrade, as if the maintenance guys of the train had gone lazy down the middle. Handles were everywhere on the floor- There was even a bar that had fallen- It would have made a great weapon, but I preferred my rifle. As I moved on, there was something else- The conspicuous magazine of bullets. Giving it a good check, I was both perplexed and relieved to find it inside a train- It was even the same design and calibre for my rifle. It had a full thirty bullets within it.

Then there was that cracking of glass again, which reminded me that I wasn't very alone after all. Reloading my rifle, I returned to investigation the noise in no time at all- It was a life or death thing, and to spend every second sitting on my butt was to spend every second giving death time to act. Springing to life was exactly just that.

I was somewhere in the middle of the train when there was something else filling my ears- I could hear a door opening far behind me. I had never actually seen a train operator door open before, much less hear it, but the sliding sound matched that picture. Inside, I knew I was in for an ambush, and I had to act fast- If only I could see further in front of me.

Abandoning all restraint, I started down the train, almost losing my balance time and again, and taking cover by the rhythm of my fighting instinct, not that I had much. As I went further down the latter half of the train, the degradation became increasingly apparent, with everything rusting and the glasses shielding the interior of the train from high winds becoming opaque with dust and red substances that may not necessarily be blood, though they might as well be.

It felt like I was descending into the bowels of darkness, and in this darkness, I could hear it- Its breathing, and the footsteps. I could hear the wind howling and roaring- The windows were broken, I kept forgetting, judging from the dramatic shattering I heard.

I felt brave, if not foolhardy. The bullets I found were filled with narcotics, it seems. Near the end of the train, I hid behind the end of one row of seats- From what I could hear but not see, it was close. With my rifle barrel pressed to my face closely, I listened intently through the drowning screaming of the wind from the tunnel for any signs of alert on the part of the unseen thing, and found that I had the upper hand. Taking off from my cover with my rifle pointing forward, I wanted to startle the creature, only to find a damsel in distress before the searching eye of my flashlight- She had blonde hair, possibly dyed, and she was wearing revealing clothes. Her face was cupped in her hands, and I could hear crying- Perhaps it was the breathing I heard?

"Hello?" I couldn't think of anything even half-decent to say to this thing of beauty that came out of nowhere. I was never really a lustful puppy for girls the way most men were, so it could've been much worse. What was she doing in such a dangerous place? Despite my call to her, she wasn't responding- Something was wrong, "Are you okay?"

The young lady was about my age with a good figure- She was probably very distressed after whatever happened to her happened. She had probably seen her own fair share of disturbing sights and creatures that shouldn't exist. While she was just a girl, I couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion inside of me, and I kept my gun pointed forward, sometimes even at her. Something was wrong.

"Hey..." I was about to say something else when I was rendered speechless. The young lady started convulsing beyond the way she did as she cried, and I could see tinges of blood- The bright red was slipping through between her fingers, and her white toga was getting stained with red spots at first, which later expanded into huge blotches in seconds. Something was happening to her.

"Look, let me see that..." I was referring to whatever was bleeding in her face. Reaching out to her with my hand, I wanted to take her hands away from her face, see what was going on. Somewhat hesitantly, my hands moved in closer to her, almost touching her, when she jolted into a range of awkward, bone-breaking movements, her hands removing themselves from her face- It was then that I saw how it was like. A half of the face was the definition of a typical beautiful girl, if only marred by the filth of blood, but the other half... It had an eye that was swollen shut, the forehead jarring out, and the skin looked slightly rotted.

I couldn't help but to recoil backwards, eventually finding my back blocked by a steel bar. My rifle was shaking along with my hands as I watched the thing of beauty before me transform into something otherwise. The girl's head was rising in height as her neck started growing longer, to lengths and at speeds impossible, even if it was normal for necks to grow upwards like a bamboo shoot. As this was happening, she sounded like she was in her death throes, as if something else was replacing her in absence of her human qualities. I could hear myself whimpering as if I was a disembodied soul, as the girl was morphing.

The final product was a barrier freezing my trigger finger from firing- I was numbed by the thing before my eyes that was formerly someone beautiful. Now, it was something in a blood-soaked white gown, something with a serpent-like neck that ends with a half-ugly face. Her body seemed to change the least, but I knew I wouldn't want to see what was underneath the reddened fabric.

As she got up and her head turned to regard me with that face of hers, my fighting instinct won out against the flight response in a struggle known as fear. My gun went off several times, even when I was feeling disconnected from the action- The first had somehow missed, but the rest had hit home. The thing fell dead before me with a cry that sounded something like that of twisted witch. Feeling a tingle on the back of my neck, I whirled around, using the rusted bar as support, and realised that there was something else behind me, ready to strike. It was but a shadow, but I knew it wasn't human. In the flashes as my muzzle flared up in anger, I could see how right I was, except I was wrong to think the last few seconds were my last. My rifle had done its work as part of its bargain for being fed.

That was the last straw however, my body spoke in revolt. Somehow, the Chi energy in my body was wasted away in those few shots, and I fell where I stood, into one of the many polluted seats at the front of the MRT train. There was hollowness in me, and I couldn't bring myself to perform any longer- I couldn't even think straight what to do next. Comically, I reached for the utility pouch at the back of my LBV, remembering the bottled health drink I picked up in the pantry back in camp. A blink later as I was doing so, the train was back to its normal self. The rust and debilitation had all but disappeared as if they were imagined to begin with. The smell of age was replaced with a kindly fragrance that would normally accompany a train light on passengers.

Everything was back to normal, back to how it was. Looking up, I saw that it was however, not exactly the case: The map was still a blip with a line leading from it into the unknown oblivion, and the tunnel that shouldn't exist was still there. Sighing, resigned to my fate, I unbuckled the pouch above my buttocks and took out the health drink. Upon close scrutiny, it belonged with one of the few things that never changed. Dry as desert, I was able to guzzle on half the bottle in one bottoms-up, and the whole thing in a minute.

It was a balance between sweet and bitter, sour and alkaline. It was cooling, a welcome gift after everything that had happened so far. It gave me my energy back- Perhaps it was renewed confidence, determination, but I was able to focus more on the task at hand, rather than to grovel in misery. The grim, stale anxiety in the air had disappeared- Even the pain was gone. Instinctually, I started checking on the numerous puncture wounds I was punished with earlier in my bid against the Puppet, but there was nothing to be found but a question mark above my sanity.

Before I could dig up any inconvenient truths, there was a jolt in my entire surrounding, within myself. I was nearly sent flying from my seat had it not been for my rejuvenated strength. The train was coming to a stop- For a minute there, I was expecting it to speed off an end to the tracks in a non-existing cavern in Singapore, but with everything still horizontal around me, it was obvious that wasn't the case. My heart had skipped a beat at the sudden change in velocity, and it was still skipping beats after that- I couldn't know for sure what was going on. That was, of course, until I bolted up out of delayed fear and saw what was behind me and the windows.


End file.
